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AUTOBIOGRAPHY 



SELECT REMAINS 



OF THE LATE' 



SAMUEL ROBERTS. 



I 

i 

LONDON: 

rHINTED FOR 

LONGMAN, BEOWN, GBEEN, AND LONGMANS, 

PATERNOSTER ROW. 

1849. 









ILSON AND OGILVY, . r ,7, SKINNER STREET, SNOWHIJ L, LONDON'. 



CONTENTS 



PAGE 

Introduction ...... .... 1 

Autobiography 8 

Ballad 50 

The Soug of the Poor Little Sweep 54 

The Bower of Innocence . . . . . . . 57 

A Snow-Piece . 60 

The Pour Friends : a Fable 62 

The Pyramid of Coins . . 73 

Facts, but not Comments ; being Strictures on the Stage . . . 77 

Jenny "Wren's Contribution to the " Olio." 88 

Letter to the Chairman of the Public Meeting held at Sheffield, 
October 2oth, 1819, on the Subject of the Proceedings at Man- 
chester, August 16th, relative to the Commercial Embarrassments 90 

The Mountain's Brow 95 

A Letter to John Bull : with the Sketch of a Plan for the safe, speedy, 

and effectual Abolition of Slavery. By a_ Free-born Englishman 101 
The United States : Professions and Practices Contrasted, — in Three 
Letters from John Bull, Junior, to his Brother Jonathan. Respect- 
fully dedicated to the American Congress, and to British Merchants 

trading to that Country . . . . . . . . 105 

Tom and Charles ; or, the Grinders 109 

The Death of Quamina . . 124 

To the Mill-bay Stream 126 



iv CONTENTS. 

PAGB 

Parallel .Miracles ; or, the Jews and the Gypsies 128 

The Ancient Egyptians ......... 134 

Modern Egypt 130 

The Jews T 137 

The Jews a9 connected with the Gypsies 141 

The World of Children ; or. the Life and Adventures of Arthur 
Fitzaimer, Esq. : now first published for the Amusement and 

Instruction of all Children from Eight to Eighty years of age . 143 

Mr. Roberts's Visit to London 153 

The New Poor Laws 157 

Dove-dale Evening Meditations ....... 1CS 

Letter to a Eriend 1?2 

" The Pauper's Advocate ; a Cry from the Brink of the Grave against 

the New Poor Law" 185 

The Birth of the Lady-birds 190 

Remarks on " Milton's Paradise Lost" . . . . . . 195 

Letter from Mr. Thomas Clarkson to Mr. Roberts .... 202 

The Miseries of Ireland .- their Cause and Cure 210 

Easter ; or, the Contrast 222 

Sir Arnold Knight and the Editor of the Sheffield Mercury . . . 226 

New Colony in the Hollow Meadows 234 



AUTOBIOGRAPHY, &c. 

or 

SAMUEL ROBERTS. 



INTRODUCTION. 



It will be a principal object of the following pages to collect 
from their diffusion among newspapers, pamphlets, and mis- 
cellaneous collections, some of the more striking productions 
of, by the consent of friends and enemies, one of the most 
extraordinary and (the writer ventures to think) one of the 
most original and powerful minds that ever put forth the 
effusions of unsophisticated and independent genius in what 
he believed to be the service of God and his fellow-crea- 
tures — a mind whose talents, such as they were, continued 
in active exercise (as will be shewn by the specimens here- 
after to be given) to the age of fourscore years and five.* 

The subject of these brief remarks was one who, from the 
incessant war which from his first public debut he waged 
with existing abuses, the unceremonious way in which he 
dealt with their upholders, and from the habitually undis- 
guised expression of his feelings, was always followed by a 

* "You have astonished and stunned me with your age," wrote 
a correspondent, to whom he was personally unknown : " four-score, 
and still such energy ! what are our three-score, two-score, and yet 
younger men doing ?" 



2 I OBIOGBAPHY AND 

swarm of petty opponents; but there were those, though 
high in talentj qoI few in number, with whom the result was 
far different. Let the following specimens suffice. In the 
year 1811, on the sole ground of his uncompromising and 
plain-spoken integrity, he found access at once to the open 
heart and unswerving friendship of William Wilberforce, 
who says, in bis private journal of June 11, "Let me just 
put down the record of a most striking letter from Mr. 
Roberts, of Sheffield; — the most truly christian, candid, 
kind, and friendly remonstrance I ever remember/' Thomas 
Clarkson, in a letter dated August 29, 1816 (just before 
the death of the venerable writer), sends to him " his dear 
farewell," as the " man in almost all respects of Ins own 
heart/'' Prom Dr. Chalmers, of Glasgow, a short period 
before his decease also, lie received a message accompanied 
with expressions of high esteem for his character. At page 
174 of the 2nd volume of the edition of the "Works of James 
Montgomery, published in 1841, the following passage, with 
reference to the subject of this memoir, will be found. 
"Though, like Jehonadab's with Jehu's, my heart was always 
with Lis heart, it was not in every enterprise that I had the 
coinage to accept his invitation to ' come up to (him) into 
the chariot/ for the adversary's watchman, descrying his 
approach from the walls, might truly exclaim, ' His driving- 
is like the driving of the son of Nimshi ; for he driveth 
furiously/ When, however, I could not do this, I girded 
myself up to run alongside of him, till I could no more keep 
pace with his speed; I then followed him as far as my 
breath and strength would carry me. Among those who 
know him best, and esteem him proportionately, — though I 
may perhaps call myself the foremost, having, more than 



SELECT REMAINS 01 SAMUEL ROBERTS. 6 

any other individual, had opportunities of understanding his 
motives,, and judging his public conduct by these, — I must 
not attempt in this place ' to give him honour due/ further 
than by simply recording my own obligations to him, for 
having by his intrepidity and example, on some trying occa- 
sions, caused me to do a little less harm, and a little more 
good in my generation, than I should otherwise have had 
forbearance in the one case to avoid, or fortitude in the 
other to undertake." The perusal of the above passage will 
not prepare any one for the information that Mr. Eoberts 
was distinguished in youth by extreme timidity, silence, and 
reserve ; yet is this fact not less certain than is the existence 
of those characteristics of his later life above so accurately 
delineated. He had reached the middle age of life ere, from 
behind this veil of nervous sensitiveness, a moral courage 
began to be put forth, which opposition might strengthen 
but not subdue, and which never quailed to numbers, autho- 
rity, rank, or power. Though a silent, he had been an 
intensely interested spectator of men and things, quietly 
maturing his opinions, and choosing his ground. These 
opinions once formed, that ground once taken, he was im- 
moveable. At an early Anti- slavery Meeting in Sheffield, he 
stood (as far as it is remembered) alone, the advocate of 
immediate and total abolition. His intimate friend, Mr. 
Rowland Hodgson, upright, cool, cautious, calculating, and 
mostly the advocate of things as they were, in vain reminded 
liim that ninety -nine persons in a hundred would tell him 
differently. "Mr. Hodgson tells me," he said, "that 
ninety-nine persons out of a hundred will tell me differently ; 
but what then ? I really think that it is by putting one 
foot before the other that we set forward." 



4 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

Though born in a generation preceding that which has now 
fairly set forth on an awful but onward career, — though de- 
clining in age almost before the first incipient agitation was 
perceptible, or the trumpet of preparation sounded afar, yet, 
where the broad principles of humanity and religion were 
the watchword, not propelled by outward impulse, but di- 
rected by a light within, he marched with the van of themighty 
movement ; embracing the general brotherhood of humanity 
in his expanded arms, and owning no church but the church 
of Christ. Yet, (born in a neighbourhood rich in romantic 
scenery and traditionary lore,) he did not escape the pre- 
judices of early association naturally entailed by a poetical 
imagination on a contemplative mind. He cherished with 
perhaps deserved preference his country, his native county, 
and the particular locality in which he was born ; but the 
strong feeling which mingled with it must be supposed to 
have materially influenced that preference. Hence (from 
its connection with that locality) the romantic interest winch 
he took in the history, as well as character, of Mary Queen 
of Scots. The same imagination and enthusiasm were con- 
tinually bringing on him, in social intercourse, some chilling 
disappointment. From a few actually existing traits, he drew 
at once a finished but visionary picture, and had soon to be 
awakened and find it but a dream. 

That feeling which perhaps most of all distinguished him, 
the ruling principle of his life, was the simple, child -like, 
unhesitating character of his faith and trust in an Almighty 
Director, Protector, and Friend, — this upheld him in every 
trial : scarcely, in the most afflictive dispensations of Provi- 
dence (and he was not without such), was he known, for the 
shortest period, to be overwhelmed. The objects of his 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. O 

special interest were little children, the aged, the poor, and 
the oppressed : of such it might truly be said, " When the 
ear heard him it blessed him, and when the eye saw him it 
gave witness unto him." 

Surrounded as he was by sources of gratification which, 
open to all, were exquisitely enjoyed by him, the highest of 
all his delights appears to have lain in solitary communion 
with his Creator amid his wildest works. For this purpose, 
with his horse and one or no attendant, he loved to sally, 
as a free and unencumbered wanderer, in the moorlands of 
Derbyshire. Meanwhile he had an ever-spread feast for eye 
and intellect in the humblest works of the Almighty j he 
would pause, in an ecstacy of admiration, or rather adora- 
tion, contemplating the structure of a shell. " All the 
wisdom of man/' he said, " employed through the longest 
life, would be unequal to the contrivance of but a portion of 
it. To what purpose was all this beauty that was buried in 
the recesses of the ocean ? God could make nothing that 
was not perfect of its kind." The ardour of boyish enthu- 
siasm is rarely so intense as that with which, between the 
age of seventy and eighty, from his noontide perambulation 
of the grounds, he entered the dining-room fresh from the 
scene described further on (Birth of the Lady -birds), and 
gave his first vivid description of the new creation, as it 
almost seemed, which he had witnessed. Nor was it with 
less delight, at eighty -four years of age, he witnessed " The 
Contrast," as he describes it, which would have been lost on 
ordinary observers. 

He had, moreover, an exquisite relish for the fine arts. 
His talents in architecture were strikingly manifested in 
their practical application. 



AUTOISKM.KAPHY AM" 

His attachment to painting was shewn by the devotion 
with which, in youth, he applied himself to the practice of 

it in the intervals of business, till he laid aside a pursuit and 
a pleasure which, from the strong temptation he found in it 
to withdraw his time from his serious avocations, he was 
brought to regard as an enemy which it was safer to flee from 
than to dally with. In advanced age, he accidentally met 
with some paintings which he recognized at once as the 
productions of superior genius, and had his interest aug- 
mented by the information that they were the first attempts 
of a deaf and dumb artist. This young man has subse- 
quently painted for him a series of pictures, which have 
obtained the high approbation of all judges of the art who 
have inspected them, but of which the composition was his 
own. In the last year of his life a somewhat similar occur- 
rence manfested his undiminished interest in the art. His 
taste for sculpture was also a source of great enjoyment to 
him. 

Geology was a favourite science with him. His mechani- 
cal contrivances displayed extraordinary powers of inven- 
tion. 

The wonders of astronomy were not spread for him before 
a regardless eye. There is a drawing, made by him, of the 
comet of 1811, as it appeared from his residence in three 
different stages of its course, shewing its position among 
the fixed stars, and its relative magnitude. 

If the writer mistakes not, his literary talents were not 
less varied than his general tastes. In humour 3 no one 
who knew him will wonder at the assertion that he was a 
master spirit; as a chronicler of the past, he was lively, 
original, and faithful; his capacity for historical investiga- 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 7 

tion is conspicuously shewn in his inquiry into the guilt or 
innocence of his favourite Queen. He would concentrate 
the whole of an argument in a simile produced by an in- 
stantaneous flash of thought, illumining with demonstration 
the pre-existent obscurity ; while he was peculiarly happy in 
picturesque description. In verse, at times he displayed a 
most simple and touching pathos ; and he had an imagina- 
tion capable of gorgeous creations. 

Had the possessor of these varied talents, with the advan- 
tage of a classical education and an early disciplined mind, 
directed Ins main attention to some one object, how high in 
that department might he not have attained ! The pre- 
ceding statements, however, of course must be verified by 
extracts from his writings in the course of this work, or, 
failing of such verification, be rejected. 



AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 



AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 



During many years I have thought it probable that I might 
be called upon by circumstances to write some kind of 
memoirs of my own life. Those circumstances appear to 
me now to have occurred. From two quarters I have 
been threatened with sometliing of the kind being in con- 
templation by others if I do not, and probably if I do. 
Little as I may myself be qualified for one of the most 
difficult of all tasks, none else, I am sure, can without my 
assistance approach that truth which is essential to the 
utility of biography. 

I was born on the 18th of April, 1763, at Sheffield, in 
the county of York. My father, after whom I was named 
Samuel, was a respectable manufacturer, and afterwards a 
merchant. My mother, whose maiden name was Mary 
Sykes, was the daughter of a neighbour in the file trade, 
then declining business. I was the second son, but my elder 
brother died an infant. Two brothers and three sisters lived 
to years of maturity. I shall dwell longer on my first four- 
teen years than may usually be done in these cases, because 
I conceive that they were very important ones in their 
effects to mc. They were by far the most unhappy ones 
of my whole life; but during almost three score subsequent 
years, I have had constantly recurring calls upon me to 
thank God that it pleased Him that I should in that way 
bear the yoke in my youth. 



SELECT REMAINS OE SAMUEL ROBERTS. 9 

The first occurrence which I can, or rather could some 
years ago, recollect, was that of my nurse taking me into 
the Vicarage Croft, which, though situated in the midst of 
the town, was then a small field amidst gardens — the old 
house beiug empty. She held me — foolishly enough — over 
an old dry draw-well, to look into it. I cannot tell what I 
could see in it to please me, but so it was, that I always 
afterwards, on coming over the Croft, insisted on looking 
into the well. Whether I was directed by that instinctive 
desire of getting at Truth, which I fancy I brought into 
the world, or not, I cannot say ; if not, I cannot account for 
the fancy. 

The next occurrence was of a much more serious nature. 
In the kitchen of my grandfather's house, which adjoined to 
ours, there was a deep grate-hole, such as was then common, 
to contain the ashes when sifted from the cinders. Into 
this hole it was occasionally customary to put very large 
quantities of red-hot files, in order to soften them for 
cutting : their gradually cooling produced that effect. It 
was usual, on these occasions, to place an iron safeguard to 
prevent any person from going too near it. The grate-hole 
was so charged, when I, being only just able to walk, toddled 
into the kitchen. One only of my aunts was at home, and 
she had just stepped into the garden, inadvertently leaving 
the dreadful place unguarded. Into this I fell. My shrieks 
soon brought my aunt. My clothes were in flames, the 
flesh beneath them burnt even to the bone ; the vital parts, 
however, were not injured. One moment's longer delay, 
and the effect must have been fatal. Thus early in life was 
I snatched out of a fiery pit, as a brand from the burning. 
B 2 



10 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

AA hat innumerable instances have I since then experienced 
of the constantly watchful and protecting care of a kind, 
and ever, to me, merciful God ! I was then too young to 
be duly sensible of the providential escape ; I trust, how- 
ever, that I have reason to think that it has been to me a 
blessed one, constantly calling for, and frequently exciting, 
fervent gratitude. 

I had but recently recovered from the dreadful effects of 
this severe infliction, when I was seized with the small -pox. 
Inoculation, I believe, was not then practised in Sheffield 
by any of the regular surgeons, but a few months afterwards 
a cousin of mine was, I have understood, the first to receive 
inoculation here by an eminent practitioner. I had the 
complaint very violently and dangerously : it is, indeed, 
wonderful, under the then practice of driving the disorder 
out, that any patients could escape. I was kept in a close 
room, my mother being in bed with me : not a breath of 
air was suffered to enter the room : even the key-hole had 
been stopped : and yet at length I recovered. The marks, 
however, though much obliterated, I still retain. The 
prejudices of parents, particularly of mothers, against what 
they called interfering with the ordainments of God, by 
themselves inflicting disease, were very strong, — perhaps on 
better grounds than most prejudices : they should, how- 
ever, have recollected that the remedy provided was also 
from God. 

I was from infancy a very thoughtful, observant child, 
saying little, but attending to all that was said by others. 

I love to see diffidence and humility in children, though 
1 have found these, of almost all things, the most cmbar- 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 11 

rassing and painful : they were the means, I am convinced, 
of throwing me more upon my own resources, or rather 
upon God, for instruction and aid than would otherwise 
have been the case. I hardly think that there ever was a 
human being through early life more low in his own esti- 
mation than myself : that was one cause of my much 
disliking schools. I had, however, no turn for any 
kind of school-learning, excepting drawing. With my 
scissors, before I had a pencil, I delighted to be busy. 
I had a good grandmother, who was always ready to 
indulge me, but she died on the day that I was seven years 
of age. Her only wish for life, she said, was that she 
might see me a man, predicting that I should be a good 
one. To her prayers, at any rate, I feel assured that I have 
been greatly indebted : I, she said, would always sit 
quietly, and listen to her stories, while my cousin, about the 
same age, was throwing everything in the room into dis- 
order. My mother was a great and worthy favourite with 
her : their united prayers, I am persuaded, have often been 
offered up effectually for my welfare. Both of them were 
unostentatiously pious. 

Nothing delighted me more than to sit, a silent listener, to 
stories of past occurrences. Frecuiently, when about eight years 
old, I thought, with mortification, that, as times were then 
(peaceable), when I became a man I should have no strange 
events to relate to those who should then be children * 
This was five-and-twenty years after the famous " runaway 

* " Nothing wonderful happens in these days," is the recorded 
lamentation of his boyhood. 



1- AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

Saturday ;" the day on which the Scotch rebel army, 
under the Pretender, was expected to reach Sheffield on its 
march to the South. It, however, took another route. 
Hearing or reading of the progress and ravages of armies in 
oilier countries excite but little interest compared with the 
narratives of those who have themselves experienced the 
alarms of an approaching army. Then every individual 
was agitated with fearful forebodings : all the town was in 
commotion ; all hands busy secreting their most valuable 
moveables; women and children hastening to places of 
greater secresy and security. Amidst the clamour of the 
strong, the lamentations of the feeble, every heart was agi- 
tated, every tongue employed in giving out or obtaining 
hourly arriving reports. A listener to such stories, I felt 
humbled, and almost dejected, as an insignificant being 
doomed to remain through life only a listener. 

My natural timidity, with my humble opinion of myself, 
made company irksome to me : I fancied that both my 
behaviour and person would appear ridiculous. I was 
marked with the small-pox, and had rather a prominent 
nose : any allusion either to small-pox or noses threw my 
body into a perspiration, and my face into a scarlet glow. 
I was, indeed, greatly surprised on overhearing an old lady 
say, after I had left the room, that I should be the flower 
of the flock. 

My mother, though then but a young woman, had much 
of trouble to struggle with ; but, though gentle, she was 
firm. She had a sister Martha, more anxious than she was 
about the things of this world j — indeed, she had more 
cause. My uncle used to say, " Aye, Martha is careful 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL EOBEETS. 13 

and troubled about many things, but Mary hath chosen 
that better part, which shall not be taken from her." My 
mother's religion was unobtrusive, but it was firmly seated 
in the heart. She had firm faith, but she had it much to 
herself before God. Both my father and mother were very 
regular Church-goers on the Sabbath-day. She was almost 
equally so at evening prayers. Many a dismal drenching 
walk have I had with her on dark and stormy winter nights. 
We lived a considerable distance from the Parish Church : 
the town was then in a very rude state in every respect, it 
being only partially flagged, with many of the stones loose ; 
there were very few lamps, and those feeble, and far apart, — 
often not lighted, or blown out. There were also projecting 
spouts from between the gutters of the roofs, from which 
during rain the water flowed in streams. Lanterns were 
dimly seen in the streets like fire flies flitting about. 
Umbrellas were then unknown. A farthing candle was 
stuck in some of the shop windows, just serving to make 
darkness more dark. Through this dismal scene had we 
to make our way half drenched to the Church : nor was the 
scene within much more lively. The Church itself was 
then one of the most gloomy, irregularly pewed places of 
worship in the kingdom. It seemed as if, after the work 
of pewing had begun, every person who chose had formed 
a pew for himself in his own way, to Ins own size, height, 
and shape. There were several galleries, but all formed, as 
it seemed, in the same way as the pews ; some of them on 
pillars, and some hung in chains. The Lord's closet was a 
gloomy structure. High under the lofty centre arch, spanned 
from side to side, the massive Eood Loft : behind which, 



ll AUTOBIOGII.UMIY AM) 

filling up the apex of the arch, were the King's Arms, 
painted most gloriously, and magnificently large. Under 
the clock, in a large glass case, yet scarcely perceptible in 
the gloom, was the pendulum, blazoned with an enormous 
staring gilt sun, solemnly and mysteriously moving from 
side to side, with a loud heart-piercing tick or tack at each 
vibration. Seen through the large centre arch was the 
gloomy solemn chancel, with the altar table, and the mas- 
sive armour-clad marble effigies of the noble Talbots, and 
their ladies, stretched side by side ; one of them with two : 
all of them (the Talbots) guarded by the enormous black 
oak eagle with its wide outstretched wings. All these 
tilings seen in the dimmest gloom by the feeble aid of a 
few caudles were not likely to enliven a child with his head 
full of stories, as mine was, of ghosts and hobgoblins : nor 
were these things, with cold and damp, making the body 
shiver and the teeth chatter, at all likely to render religion 
attractive to a child : glad, indeed, was I always when the 
service was over; when pattens began to clatter, and 
Johnny Lee (the clerk), was called to on all sides for a 
light to the lanterns. These bygone times are worth 
noting before the remembrance of them is departed too. 

My good mother, however, did not very long continue to 
attend the evening prayers at the Church. The Methodists, 
though then still ridiculed and persecuted, had gained firm 
footing in the town. They had already had two small 
meeting-places pulled down bythe mob here, but they speedily 
built a plain substantial large one, and gradually became very 
numerous, though still subject occasionally to molestation. 
1 believe that the first sermon I ever heard was in the open 






SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 15 

air by a Methodist preacher on my grandfather's premises, 
then called Sykes's Square. The circumstance therefore 
made a strong impression on my mind. Soon afterwards I 
heard the Rev. George Whitfield hold forth from the top of 
a cask, at the Sugar House, on Sheffield Moor. My 
mother, though she never joined the Society, went for 
several years regularly to their evening services : meanwhile 
attending at the Church on the Sabbath. Afterwards she 
ceased to go to either, but went regularly to the Quakers' 
Meeting House. She, however, never either joined their 
Society, or conformed to their dress or speech. Her's was 
truly the religion of the heart. She found fault with 
none, but she silently strove to shew by example a .more ■ 
excellent way. She no otherwise sought to bias her chil- 
dren ; yet it showed no common strength of mind so to 
follow out conviction in her conduct. She was very highly 
esteemed by the Society of Friends . I never went with her 
to the Meeting in my life, nor did she seek to influence me, 
yet I am disposed to think that the mode of worship of the 
Friends approaches the nearest of any to the purity of true 
Christian worship. I never was given to change in any 
way : I must have strong grounds for it, when I do. Per- 
fection in religious societies is, at any rate, unattainable : 
in all there is a mixture of good and imperfection. I have 
always endeavoured to choose the former, and avoid the 
latter. But I am forestalling. 

I do not recollect my mother being angry with me but 
once ; indeed, I scarcely was punished at home or at school 
in my life. I do not know what I had done, but some- 
thing for which my mother conceived that I deserved 



10 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

punishment; she therefore told me that I was such a 
naughty boy that she would go and leave me. In spite of 
my crying she put on her hat and cloak,, and left the house. 
I followed in agonies, and she soon found that she had pro- 
ceeded rather too far, and was glad to retrace her steps. 
The tempers of children, however young, require to be 
carefully studied. Great severity is rarely needed ; but that 
which would be severity to one would seem little punish- 
ment to others. Though the almost savage violence which 
had some years before been common in parents and masters 
was then greatly diminished, still there remained the prac- 
tice of rude treatment, even by decent tradespeople, which 
would not now be tolerated. Apprentices, and even jour- 
neymen, were not unfrequently beaten by their masters; 
nay, maid-servants were at times pushed about, and some- 
times boxed by their mistresses. At my father's, and even 
my grandfather's, the apprentices were well fed and well 
treated. The latter always dined with them. 

I was nearly seven years of age when the famous, per- 
haps infamous, John Wilkes was to be liberated from 
prison, and" Wilkes and Liberty," with " Number Forty - 
five," was vociferated by all ages and almost all stations. 
I did not know what was meant ; but as there was to be 
ringing and shouting, and an illumination, I was as glad as 
others, and with quite as much reason. It was to me, in- 
deed, a most exhilarating day. Young as I was, I had my 
say as to the form in which the candles were to be placed 
in the windows, as well as in fastening the laths and pre- 
paring the balls of clay to stick them in. I have since seen 
many illuminations in London, but none to equal tliis, the 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 17 

first, in producing wonder, delight, and lasting impression 
on my mind. John Wilkes never afterwards afforded me 
the same delight, though I have seen him as Chamberlain of 
the City, in his splendid chariot How vain, unsatisfying, 
and transient have I since perceived the plaudits of the 
multitude to be ! But this was a knowledge I had then 
to learn. 

Before I proceed to detail the events of my miserable 
school days, it may not be amiss, in the first place, to de- 
scribe some of the bygone appearances and customs of my 
native town. They are not, though, much farther inter- 
esting than as preserving a knowledge of a state of society 
even now almost unknown. I think I may say, happily 
unknown ; for I am not one of those old men who think 
that the days of their youth were better than the days of 
their age. I have, thank God ! found the reverse to be the 
case. It is true that I was early led, as I shall soon have 
occasion to show, to form very feeble hopes of earthly hap- 
piness, and consequently it was, perhaps, that my hopes 
have been more than realized. 

The state of Sheffield seventy years ago was certainly, 
comparatively, a very rude and very poor one. Selfishness 
and unfeelingness towards others much more generally pre- 
vailed than they do now. 

The Boys' Charity School was then, I believe, with the 
exception of the workhouse, the only institution in the 
town for the relief of the poor. A master who farmed 
the children had then to make a fortune (and did make 
what was thought one) out of the savings which he could 
obtain from sixteen-pence a head per week, for the mainte- 



IS AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

nance of sixty poor boys. What sort of living these 
wretched children must have had we may safely leave any 

one to judge. I am in possession of facts relative to that 
school which would horrify the public were I to state them. 
At present I allude to the subject to show the former state 
of the poor in Sheffield, and the conduct of the rich to- 
wards them. Who woidd now think of thus famishing the 
children of a chanty school, and then letting the room in 
which they ought to have slept as a dancing assembly room ! 
Yet such was the fact, as well as another, namely, that the 
use of the room was paid for by the ladies. The card 
assemblies were likewise held there. More, perhaps, of tins 
hereafter. 

Among the now obsolete practices then continued, was 
that of hiring at the Statutes, or Statice, as it was called. 
I do not mean the hiring of servants at that time, then in 
a great measure discontinued here ; but what I think was 
peculiar to tins town, the hiring oi cloys, which was effected 
by flogging the poor animals through the street with whips 
on the occasion. The origin or meaning of the custom I 
never heard stated. During more than a week previous to 
the day, the loud cracking of whips was heard throughout 
the town continually, to the great annoyance of both 
bipeds and quadrupeds; the sagacious dogs, by such 
warnings, seeming to be made well aware of the kind of 
treat which was preparing for them. On the morning of 
the great day — rain or fair — long before daylight, crowds 
of lads were assembled in many dill'erent parts of the town, 
shouting and cracking their whips. Whenever a dog was 
discovered, the cry of, a dog ! a dog ! a dog ! was loudly 



SELECT REMAINS OE SAMUEL ROBERTS. 19 

vociferated by every one of them. If the dog fled, a general 
pursuit ensued; and if surrounded, he suffered severely. 
Many, however, would stand at bay, and were sent out by 
their owners for the purpose. If the beast got his back to 
the wall, few of the lads dare go near enough to lash them, 
and those who did would sometimes suffer deservedly for it. 
Some dogs, indeed, had been taught to fly at the lads, and 
seize their whips without hurting them, taking the whips to 
their master. These afforded the best sport. The game 
continued till noon, and then, by common consent, ceased. 

May-eve was called Mischief Night. It was a kind of 
Saturnalia, every one understanding that he might, without 
fear of punishment, play what misclnevous pranks he chose. 
There were, however, certain limits understood, which were 
rarely passed. The jokes were generally very harmless ; I 
believe stealing was never practised. When the rogues 
could get to the top of the chimney of a low house, they, 
having previously either fastened the door, or reared a tall 
log of wood against it, would, putting a flat stone on the 
top, drop a dead cat, or a quantity of water, down it. The 
inmates, on going to the door, either found it fast, or were, 
on opening it, saluted by the falling log. The way in which 
many doors were then fastened and opened was by a wooden 
latch, with a thong of leather fastened to it put through a 
hole in the door. On going to bed the inmates pulled the 
string inside, and all was secure. The cutting of these 
sneck-bands, as they were called, was a common piece of 
mischief. The removal and concealment of doors and win- 
dow-shutters was frequent : indeed every one, on rising on 
May-day morning, expected to find that some trick or other 
had been played against them. 



20 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

This custom, formerly very prevalent tliroughout the 
county, has been discontinued many years. 

On May-morning, by day-light or soon after, the whole 
town had assumed somewhat of the appearance of rural ver- 
dure. Almost every house was decorated with what was 
technically called " Mat/' that is, branches of hawthorn, 
larger or smaller. Sometimes whole trees were fastened 
against a sign or a lamp-post, while garlands were elsewhere 
suspended across the street. Land-owners, it may be sup- 
posed, in those days were not very tenacious of their trees 
and hedges. On the 29th of May T have known trees of 
considerable size brought away from their standing, and 
planted in the town. 

The Christmas Wassails have been long discontinued. 
Six or eight families, of which my father's formed one, used 
each in turn to hold such a festivity ; but they had even then 
lost much of their peculiarities, though continued as supper 
festivities. At one of the last of them I was nearly de- 
prived of the little wit I possessed, by one of the foolish 
practical jokes then common. I might be about nine years 
of age, and was seated, after supper, in the circle with my 
back to the door, when I heard it open, and saw a strange 
sort of commotion among the guests. On turning my head 
I beheld an enormous hobgoblin, with glaring saucer eyes, 
and an enormous wide flaming mouth, as if ready to devour 
me. I could neither move nor cry out, and it was soon per- 
ceived by the party that they had been thoughtlessly im- 
prudent. I was long before I could bear to hear i( named. 
Many persons were alarmed at it in the street, till the hob- 
goblin itself became at last the sufferer. It consisted of 
the skull of a horse, covered with black frieze, the eyes 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 21 

convex glass, the under jaw made to open, the mouth 
painted red. A black rug hung down from the head, 
inside of which was a man with a light. 

The horribly cruel practice of throwing at cocks on 
Shrove Tuesday was not quite abolished; but I never 
witnessed much of it. Shuttlecock was so universal on 
that day, if fine, that almost every street had parties of lads 
and lasses playing at it ; but Spittal Hill was the grand mart 
for holiday folk. On the evening, many of the more 
orderly public-houses appropriated their best room to the 
accommodation of a youthful party, spending the penny 
being the term applied to the entertainment. Perhaps fifty 
children of both sexes, from five to ten years of age, would 
assemble at each house. They had the room entirely to 
themselves. Each paid a penny; for which they had 
plumb-cake and warm sweetened wine. They played from 
eight o'clock at such games as they chose. These were 
very joyous and harmless meetings. I could still feel 
pleasure in witnessing them. I love unrestrained childish 
happiness. When I was a child I thought as a child — nor 
have I yet quite put off all childish things. I should like 
to retain somewhat of childish simplicity to the last. 

The state of the town relating to cleanliness may be 
inferred from the regulations respecting Barker Pool. This 
was an ancient reservoir of water, situated in the highest 
part of the ground, called " Top-oVtown." It was well 
walled round. In the event of a fire (happily a very rare 
one), the water on being let off could be directed to most 
parts of the town. The keeping of this reservoir in repair 
was one of the objects to which the funds of the town were 
directed to be applied. All the channels were then in the 



»B AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

middle of the streets, which were generally in a very dis- 
i rderly state ; manure heaps ofti n lying in them for a week 
together. About once every quarter, the water was let out 
of Barker Pool, to run down all those streets into which it 
could be turned, for the purpose of cleansing them. The 
bellman gave notice of the exact time, and the favoured 
streets were all bustle, with a row of men, women, and 
children, on each side of the channel, anxiously and joyfully 
awaiting, with mops, brooms, and pails, the arrival of the 
cleansing flood, whose first appearance was announced by 
a loud continuous shout : all below was anxious expectation 
— all above a most amusing scene of bustling animal ion. 
Some people were throwing the water up against their 
houses and windows ; some raking the garbage into the 
kennel ; some washing their pigs ; some sweeping the 
pavement • youngsters throwing the waters over their com- 
panions, or pushing them into the wide-spread torrent. 
Meanwhile a constant Babel-like uproar, mixed with the 
barking of dogs and the grunting of pigs, was heard both 
above and below, till the waters, after about half an hour, 
had become exhausted. Such was the mode in which the 
town was in those days kept clean. 

There was a supply of water brought for about a mile to 
the town, but the quantity was small, pipes being laid in 
only a few of the principal streets. A receptacle was made 
for this in Townhead Street, from which il was the business 
of a number of men to take it in casks, fixed on the bodj of 
a wheelbarrow, holding about fifty gallons, to all parts of 
the town to sell. The facet ions Watkk Isaac was one of 
these water-barrel men. [saac was made very much in the 
shape of his barrel set on end. lie was once slowly 



SELECT EEMAINS OP SAMUEL "ROBERTS. 23 

wending his way home on a pitchy dark night, along the 
Bull Stake, when his stout waterproof hat came in contact 
with the end of a bunch of iron which a man was carrying 
the contrary way on his shoulder. Isaac, being a little top- 
heavy, was thereby laid sprawling on his back. The man 
called out aloud, " heigh, fellow there, take care \" " Why, 
what man, thou'rt not coming again, art thou V was Isaac's 
calm inquiry. These watermen were generally rather dry 
fellows. 

The number of remarkable characters, who were known, 
by their nicknames, to almost any child in the town, was 
then great. I know of no such characters now here, as 
common make-sports. Not only were there among the 
resident natives singular characters, but many such were 
continually visiting the town. The Wandering Shepherdess 
I remember more than once, attracting (not by youth and 
beauty) much of juvenile public admiration. She was 
attended by a little flock of sheep with which she lived and 
slept, wherever she could meet with accommodation. What 
her real character was I never knew, but I never heard any 
harm of her. The Wandering Jew was another ; he had 
(according to report) been wandering more than seventeen 
hunched years, and was doomed to wander to the end of 
time. 

Toms of Bedlam, too, were frequently seen begging ; 
some few of them being really what they appeared to be, 
namely, poor, harmless, insane men, discharged from 
Bedlam as being incurable, and furnished with a kind of 
license to beg. By far the greatest part of them were, of 
course, impostors, assuming the most hideous appearance of 
human wretchedness and idiocy. Women of the same 



2-i AUTOBIOGUAJ'IIY AND 

description, under the name of Cousin Betties, were 
equally common., and at least equally disgusting and 
wretched. 

Sheffield then was not half the size that it now is, nor 
had it half the inhabitants. St. James's Street was a large 
croft ; Paradise Square a corn held ; South Street a wild 
common, adorned with gorse-bushes, foxgloves, and a 
bowling-green. "Wilkinson Street was Broomhall Spring; 
Carver Street Chapel, CadmauVin-the-fields. Our splendid 
shops, with panes of plate glass in them, of twenty pounds 
value each, flaming at night with gas-lights, had (if any) 
panes at nine-pence each, and one or two farthing candles. 
There was no magnificent Town Hall, with a huge batch 
of magistrates sitting twice a week to furnish inmates for 
York Castle and the prison at Wakefield. 

Sheffield could not then raise six or seven thousand pounds 
a year for lighting, watching, and cleansing the streets ; a 
few dirty, dull oil lamps, just within sight of one another 
in dark nights, served to show how very dark it was. The 
bellman was the watchman, and pigs the principal scaven- 
gers. Neither did Sheffield then raise six or eight thousand 
a year for highways; her highways were then rather low 
ways; the channels, full of garbage, down the middle of the 
street, and the footpath flagged with " grindle kouks," and 
stones of all kinds and shapes, except square. There were 
no Mechanics' Libraries, News Rooms, or institutions. No 
Infant, National, Lancastcrian, Collegiate, or Methodist 
Colleges. There was one poor Methodist Meeting in Mul- 
berry Street, with about lour Methodist preachers to be 
pelted with rotten eggs, and, probably, but few more Church 
clergy. There were not then a tenth part of the public- 



SELECT REMAINS OV SAMUEL ROBERTS. 25 

houses that there now are, nor, probably, a twentieth part 
of the gin shops (I beg pardon, palaces) . 

Many of the lower classes were not taught to read at all ; 
I should think not one third of them to write. I went 
when about five years old, just knowing rny alphabet, to be 
taught " B A, ba," to a teacher of the old school of Poor 
Gentlemen. He had been a player, and was really a 
gentlemanly personage; Ins name was Quin. He had 
about twenty or thirty little urchins of both sexes, from 
five to ten years of age, to superintend, for I should think 
at the utmost ten shillings a week for the whole. It is 
true that he gave himself but little concern about us. I 
remember hhn the best by his sitting with a plate of cherries 
before him, eating them slowly, one by one, and when he 
had done, proclaiming a scramble for the stones upon the 
floor, most of which stones found their way down our little 
throats. As to learning, he crammed us with so very little, 
that I was pretty speedily transferred to another seminary, 
as it would now be called. It was certainly a kind of hot 
bed, in winch the seeds of learning often made speedy and 
vigorous first shoots : they were then transplanted. 

A man of the name of Nicholas Hick, a dissenter, I 
believe, of some learning, had invented, or adopted, a new 
method of teaching to read. He had lessons printed on 
loose octavo pages, on both sides, beginning with the 
alphabet, of all sorts, and the numerical figures ; then, with 
words of one, two, three, four syllables, and so on to 
ten — no matter whether the words had any meaning or not. 
After ten syllables, the next page contained the 10th chapter 
of Nehemiah : the scholars were then considered — as well 
they might be — able to read any part of the Bible, and that 



26 



AITOBIOGK.U'IIY AND 



finished their education in this seminary. The loose | g 
b\ means of a little paste put round the edge, were fastened 

upon a piece of wood a very little longer than the page. 
"W hen the scholar was sufficiently perfect in that it was 
taken off, and again fastened on, but the reverse way. 

Eventually it was taken off, and another, in regular advance, 
put on. Each advancing change was called being turned. 
I don't think that the charge for hooks, if it may be so 
called, was above sixpence a year. The teaching was two- 
pence a week, and in September we were expected to take 
either three-pence, or six-pence, for fire money. Those who 
took the former had eight cakes of gingerbread, those who 
took the latter had sixteen. 

The old gentleman had about five hundred scholars, 
crowded, under different teachers, into five small rooms. 
He expected that every boy should not only be perpetually 
conning his lesson, but repeating it aloud, so that it was a 
continual Babel : this was called getting. It is said, that 
so accustomed was the old man to the noise, that when on 
his death-bed he thought that it would do him good, and 
had the next room filled with getters. I did not go to 
Nicholas, but to Ins son-in-law, who, with his wife, his son, 
and his daughter, taught four rooms full, in an adjoining 
street, upon exactly the same plan. The house was situated 
near the old workhouse, in the lowest part of the town, 
where the channels met from many streets. On the going 
of a snow, the whole street was flooded. Through this snow- 
broth the children had to wade, and sit through the day 
(Inking their dinners with them) wet as the_\ were, the iloor 
being little heller than the streets; so that, with a hot fire, 
there was a perpetual steam in the room. It was not there- 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 27 

fore to be wondered at that I was not long in becoming il 
of a violent fever. I had then got as far as " BLA, bla" 
(the lessons were all called by the first word), or mono- 
syllables of three letters ; which I well remember, for during 
the height of the fever, BLA, bla, was constantly sounding 
in my ears, or rather running in my head. 

Many of the dreams which I had then I long considered 
as realities. I thought that somebody was always beating 
with a hammer at the back of the bed's head. One circum- 
stance afforded me amusement : when left in the dark, on 
pressing my eyes close, a particular scene presented itself — 
varying but little. It was a mountain, up and down which 
innumerable figures and animals of various kinds (most of 
them such as I had never seen) were perpetually moving. 
The colours were brilliant, and of all kinds. There were 
some remarkable figures, which always came. The fever was 
a very long and severe one. It was some time before I 
could walk again. Not long after I had the measles very 
severely, which, with the return of the fever afterwards, kept 
me confined a long time. 

For so young a child, I had suffered greatly ; but bodily 
sufferings were not all — I think not the greatest, I under 
went in early youth. Attached from infancy, by the ten- 
derest ties of affection, to my family, my connections, and 
my home, the being compelled to leave them even for a short 
time and distance was productive of misery to me. It was 
now thought necessary to send me to rather a superior 
school, and I went to that of a Mr. Thompson, of Darnall, 
about three miles from Sheffield, where I had relations to be 
with, and I was, moreover, to spend the Sunday at home, 
and one night in the middle of the week. This my parents 



28 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

thought would wean me 1'rom home; but its effect was to 
attach me more strongly to it. The verj first evening, after 
a day of crsing, I had gol a good part of the way home 
before i was overtaken, and very unwillingly compelled to 

return. Mr. Thompson taught drawing, and, if anything 
could have reconciled me to absence from home, that would 
have done so. The experiment, however, only drew me more 
closely and firmly to all that were then dear to me. In less 
than a year I was taken home, and sent to a day-school, 
kept by a little lame man of the name of Schol field, where, 
in the course of two years, I made some little progress in 
reading, writing, and accounts ; but I liked none of them, 
and therefore seemed but a dunce. Being at honie, how- 
ever, I bore with the schooling, while the days for drawing 
were a treat. But these, comparatively, halcyon days were 
soon to end. 

It was deemed requisite — and rightly so — that I should 
be sent from home, wdiether it served to wean me from it or 
not ; and during two years I went to a school kept by a 
clergyman at Doncaster. These were certainly two of the 
most miserable, as well as important years, of my now long 
life. I was always addicted to tears : during these two 
years, excepting in the holidays, I was daily and nightly 
shedding them. I learned to love to be alone : whenever I 
could, I got into the country, where I could walk, and weep, 
and exclaim unnoticed. Even during the latter days of the 
holidays I was almost as miserable with the thoughts of 
leaving home, and used to sit, and muse, and weep over my 
younger brothers and sisters as if I had been in see them 
no more. My parents were wont to tell me that the school- 
days were the happiest days of life, and 1 frequently heard 






SELECT REMAINS OE SAMUEL ROBERTS. 29 

them and others admitting that the troubles of life increased 
with age. I had felt much affliction in childhood : I had 
known little happiness ; and I was then exceedingly miser- 
able, but I had confidence in those who thus predicted 
greater sufferings, and the impression was strong. I ap- 
prehend that few r human beings, during the first fourteen 
years of life, have experienced more numerous, diversified, 
and severe sufferings than myself; nor have there been many, 
I conceive, who during their early years thought more 
humbly of themselves than I did. It was during the latter 
part of that period that I was forcibly struck with the 
youthful prayer of Solomon for divine wisdom. In accord- 
ance with the feelings then excited, I most sincerely and 
fervently supplicated God for that heavenly wisdom which 
cometh down from the Father of Lights ; resigning all wish 
for either human learning or earthly riches, and only desiring 
to be instructed in and enabled to perform the will of God. 
It was not till I was a little more than thirteen years of age, 
that, while praying in tears, and almost agonies, in the 
morning by the bed-side, I was led to throw myself and all 
my concerns on the will of God. I felt at once as if relieved 
from all anxiety. I received such an assurance of the ex- 
istence, the presence, and the assistance of God's holy spirit, 
as not only quieted my sorrows, but fixed upon my mind a 
full conviction that He would at all times be ready to guide 
and enlighten me, if I were by faith and prayer to solicit 
such assistance. I had nothing of raptures : all was sweet 
serenity and peace. I felt assured that I had learned to 
know God, and that He cared for me — for me, a worm. 
This I have always considered as the great epoch of my life. 
I have never, I believe, spoken of it to any one, but the 



30 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

memory of it, and the gratitude for it, have never forsaken 
me. From that time to the present, (threescore years,) I 
have never ceased to feel assured that the- aid of the Holy 
Spirit was attainable in all emergencies and on all occasions, 
if properly sought for, and that without it no man could in 
any case be assured of success. 

In the course of the following narrative it will appear 
how the whole of my subsecpient life hath been affected by 
this gracious dispensation of Almighty God. It shewed n.e 
at once the path, the only path, in which truth could, if it 
all, be attained. In that path — and when difficulties inter- 
posed, in that path only — have I sought it : I mean not as 
regards spiritual truths, but all truth whatever. In that 
path likewise have I sought safety from danger, deliverance 
from temptation, success in all my endeavours, and consola- 
tion under all my afflictions. 

Every step of my advancement in life served to convince 
me more and more, that no trust, no confidence, were to be 
placed in princes, nor in any child of man whatever, as all 
were at least liable to error : the wisest and the best of them 
at times contradicting each other. This, however, was a sub- 
sequent and very gradual discovery. 

Perhaps I owe much of that thankful contentedness which 
has accompanied me through subsequent hfe, to the impres- 
sion communicated by my parents and friends of the sorrows 
which lay before me. I expected, and was prepared for, a 
life of toil and sufferings : I looked not for perfect happi- 
ness, and therefore, after leaving school, I found hfe not 
only much more bearable, but more happy than 1 had luvn 
led to expect. 

The short time that 1 yet remained at school passed much 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 31 

less sorrowfully, and with, rather more attention to learning ; 
but I made no great progress. Beading on serious subjects, 
particularly controversial ones, I was not fond of : I liked 
best the books which left something for the imagination of 
the reader to supply. 

I think that children should be led to act and think for 
themselves. Either man or child who relies on others is 
rarely good for much. 

People are too fond of treating children as automatons, 
displaying their own skill in producing motion : such ma- 
chines often want winding up. 

On leaving school, at fourteen, I was put immediately to 
business. I was so happy when finally settled, as I hoped, 
at my dear home, with those I loved, that trifling difficulties 
would not have discouraged me : such I looked for and 
expected. I possessed an active mind, in an active but not 
very strong body. I had a turn for mechanics and design, 
with a naturally good taste. My father was then a partner 
in an extensive manufacture of silver and plated goods ; 
wherein, intending to qualify me to embark in the same bu- 
siness, he put me, in succession, to almost every department. 
This suited me : I was in turn a hammerer, a mounter, a 
chaser, an engraver, &c. &c. ; so that being a Jack-of-all- 
trades I was really good at none. But I understood them 
all. No time hung heavy on my hands : my spare hours 
were usually spent in drawing, in country rambles, or a 
game at bowls. I did not like large companies, or ever felt 
at ease in them. I had so humble an opinion of myself that 
I supposed both my person and behaviour would be noticed 
and ridiculed. I loved to listen ; but rarely ventured to 



32 AUTOBIOGRAPHY ANI» 

i opinion of my own, conceiving tlr.it those so much 
older than myself musi know best. 

Some time after my return from school, my father having 

to dine, the gentlemen were afterwards conversing 

on improvements in mechanics, when one of them observed 

what great loss and inconvenience had long been sustained 

- where a mere trifle (if thought of) would entirely 
have removed the embarrassment, He instanced a recent 
case in the collieries, particularly at Newcastle, where, in 
many instances the pits were so deep, that when the corf 
was at the bottom, the weight of the rope alone required 
an amazing power to draw it up. This loss of power, he 
said, had been submitted to, time out of mind, as an evil 
not to be remedied ; till lately, the simple remedy had been 
suggested of hanging a rope of the same kind, reaching to 
the bottom of the pit, to the corf, which was about to 
descend ; this exactly balancing the other, the weight of 
the latter was by this means got emit of. The company all 
admitted the excellence of the plan, and wondered that so 
plain and simple a remedy was not thought of sooner. I 
silently wondered ai my own simplicity in not being able to 
discover, how this would answer. I saw clearly that the 
rope, in that case, must either remain at the bottom of the 
pit, or be drawn up again. In the first case the pit would, 
in time, be filled with ropes j in the second, they would 
have two ropes to draw up instead of one. Yet it was long 
before I could convince myself (which at last I did) that 
five or six gentlemen could be so easily duped. 

i'i in thai time 1 felt some confidence in myself, and 
resolved to take nothing on trust. If not convinced, I ex- 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 33 

ainined (if I thought it worth examination) the subject till 
I became so. This gave me a habit of thinking, and that 
habit was a delight — one I could enjoy at all times, fearless 
of being laughed at. Shamefacedness made me seek soli- 
tude, but I sought it also as favourable to thought. Years 
afterwards I was designated by strangers the silent young 
gentleman. However, I was then generally happy and 
thankful. When at ease, I was disposed to playfulness, and 
innocent practical jokes. The infliction of pain, whether on 
human beings or the brute creation, was agonising to me. 
I can never forget the horror and trepidation with which I 
passed, on my way to school, the end of the slaughter-houses. 
I remember being at play with a cousin of my own age 
alone in the house, when a poor woman came to the door 
to crave charity. I had nothing to give her but my pity. 
My companion ran into the kitchen, fetched an old iron 
heater, and, as a jest, offered it to her. My feelings at the 
moment made a lasting impression on me. I so much dreaded 
being singular, that I rarely ventured to give any thing to 
a beggar in the public streets, but have followed them, some- 
times into the country, to give it unseen. I never was a 
sportsman, but once went with a companion and gun. I shot 
at some small birds, when two or three fell from the tree 
wounded. I was dreadfully distressed, my blood ran cold 
and chill, and I resolved to forsake the amusement. 

When about fifteen years of age, I passed perhaps the 
happiest week of my life, — a large party, including my 
father, mother, and myself, being formed for an excursion 
into Derbyshire. I was the most silent, but, I believe, 
the happiest of the party. The sorrows of youth had passed 
away, while those of riper years had not begun to annoy me. 
c2 



84 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

All was novelty; the high moors much more wildly romantic 
than they now are — the rocks have never seemed so stu- 
pendous since. 

The book of nature, and the book of man, have, from m\ 
youth, been favourite ones with me. This, 1 apprehend, 
may be generally the ease with those who are fond of soli- 
tude. They are at hand in all times, aud in all places. 
Other books which I most liked were prose works of ima- 
gination, — biography, natural history, or philosophy, and 
a few of poetry ; wit and humour, if within the bounds of 
propriety, I always enjoyed. It either has been, or I have 
imagined it to be often the case, even from early jouth, that, 
in taking up a book to read, I have felt a conviction for 
which I could not account, that I ought not to read it, — 
when, on proceeding to the perusal, I have found myself 
soon compelled to give it up. 

The revolt of America took place about this time. I was 
a staunch loyalist from, perhaps, my cradle. My father was 
the same; while our next neighbour, Mr. Evans, was what 
would now be called a determined thorough-going radical. 
He was a presbyterian minister over a congregation of the 
Doddridge school, but then beginning, with many other 
similar congregations, to diverge towards Socinianism. 
Polities out of the question, he was meek and lowly in heart, 
anxious to please, and to serve every one. In that family I 
spent very many happy hours. Differing so materially as 
we did, both on religious and political subjects, I was taught 
by the amiable correctness of their conduct to judge chari- 
tably of those who differed from me in opinion. By the 
discussions which took place between m\ father and .Mr. 
Evans, my attention was drawn to politics; bui 1 was only 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 35 

! a listener. I wished to think my father in the right; but 
my heart was disposed to side with the Americans, whom I 
could not but consider as the suffering party. In the 
workshops I was led to be a little more talkative and active. 
Keppel and Palliser for a while occupied much of the 
public attention, and produced a strong party spirit. The 
workmen in the room where I was employed were all on 
one side, but I do not recollect which : I of course was 
on the same side. Those in the adjoining room were on 
the other. Each had their separate flags, songs, and abusive 
appellations. The war between the parties never reached 
blows, nor often arguments, — taunts, shouts, and derision, 
were the chief artillery on both sides. We were, perhaps, 
as rational and wise as many politicians in higher and more 
important stations. 

Subjects of natural philosophy much engaged my attention. 
When lectures on the subject were delivered, I was gene- 
rally an attendant. When any assertion of the lecturer 
appeared to me obscure or wrong, I could rarely rest till, by 
investigation, I had satisfied my mind on the subject. 
This was generally done in my solitary evening walks, or 
in bed. 

I had, so far, after leaving school, been employed in the 
house in the silver plated line, in which my father was a 
partner ; but when I became of age, the partners not being 
quite on good terms together, my father wished me to 
begin a new concern. The attempt was hazardous, — I was 
young and inexperienced. My father's property out of busi- 
ness was not large. The trade required a considerable capi- 
tal, and its success was doubtful. My father reposed great 



36 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

confidence In me, and my mother more* I believe that we 
all prayed for divine direction, and, I trust, obtained it. My 
father raised what money lie could for me, and built rne a 
new manufactory. 

The manufacture of silver plated goods originated in Shef- 
field a century back from the present time. It was, I believe, 
in a 1 7 I ••'■) thai the first attempt was made, by a mannufcaturer 
in knives, named Thomas Bolsover, who was joined by Mr. 
AYilson, (afterwards in the snuff trade). They did not long 
continue the business, but in the meantime Mr. Joseph 
Hancock took it up on a more extended scale. He suc- 
ceeded in making many articles in what is called the braziery 
line, such as tankards, cups, coffee pots, &c. &c, to a con- „ 
siderable extent, and eventually established a mill worked 
by water, for rolling the metal when plated, which, after 
himself giving up the manufacturing part, he employed in 
rolling the metal for such other manufacturers as had taken 
it up. The metal was at first rolled by hand, till Messrs. 
Tudor and Leader, and afterwards Mr. Winter, applied 
horse power. I can remember the little active old gentle- 
man attending the candle-light suppers, as they were called, 
which were in those days commonly given annually by each 

* The undertaking entailing great anxiety on his nervously anxious 
another (of whom lie was the darling child), Mr. Roberts arranged 
for his business letters to be brought to his father's house. They were 
opened (secretly, as she thought), and then re-scalcd by his mother. 
When this had continued long enough to answer his purpose, the son 
spoke — "Mother, you must now be convinced that I am doing well, 
so I will order my letters henceforward to be delivered at the ware- 
house." 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 37 

house to their workmen. In tins, as in almost all new 
trades, the originators failed of success. They, however, 
opened, smoothed, and paved the way for others. 

The making of silver-plated handles for knives and forks 
soon became extensive. Mr. Law, (grandfather of the late 
sculptor,) stood first; with him my father and Mr. John 
Winter served their apprenticeship. Mr. Winter afterwards 
began to make both plated and silver candlesticks, (but 
them only,) where Mr. BardwelFs auction-room now is ; and 
over his workshops was then a large water reservoir, belong- 
to Mr. Matthewman, for supplying the toivn with Crookes 
Moor toater, being the origin of the present extensive 
water-works. Mr. Winter's business prospered : he would 
not suffer any soft solder to be used, but only silver solder: 
hence his workmen used, in derision, to call others soft-job 
smiths. Candlesticks were then almost altogether columns 
of one of the five orders. Perhaps none more chaste have 
since been made. 

About 1765, Mr. Winter and my father joined Mr. 
Morton and four others in the manufacture of all kinds of 
plated goods, except candlesticks, the making of which 
Mr. W. was to retain to himself. The plated trade had then 
become considerable ; there were about six houses engaged 
in it, and almost all kinds of goods had then become made 
of plated metal which had been made of silver. As the 
trade was completely new in Sheffield, where no similar 
goods, of any metal, had been made, workmen at all qualified 
to manufacture them had to be sought for from London, 
York, Newcastle, Birmingham, &c. Those who chose to 
come were, of course, generally indifferent characters, — many 
of them very bad ones ; therefore, during the first forty years, 



38 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

the journeymen platers were, as a body, the mosl unstead} 
depraved, and idle of all other workmen. They were no 
only depraved themselves, hut a source of depravity in 
others, — in fact, in many respects, a pes! to the town. The 
masters could neither do without tliem, nor obtain better; 
they were, i lie re fore, forced to give them high wages, and to 
wink at all their irregularities. From this cause the masters 
were continually enticing the workmen from each other's 
houses, giving them money to hire with them, and letting 
them get into their debt as a kind of security. There were, 
in consequence, frequent disputes between masters and work- 
men, and between masters and masters about them, so that 
they almost oceupied all the time of the patient Mr. Wilkin- 
son, and the impatient Mr. Athorpe, during one day in the 
week, in the little old justice-room, at the Cutlers' Hall. 

The masters suffered too much of all kinds of drinking, 
rudeness, and profane swearing, in the workshops ; and once 
a year, about September, they gave a kind of saturnalia, 
called the candle-light supper, at a public-house, where the 
workmen, the workwomen, the masters, and the masters of 
other trades connected with them, were all Sail fellows, 
well met ! 

At that period many of the most prosperous masters were 
such as had been of the number of the few steady workmen. 
In the manufactory in which Mr. Winter and my father had 
a share, the burnishing women and girls worked in a passage 
room between two rooms containing workmen of the de- 
scription mentioned. 

Such, generally speaking, were the workmen of the plated 
manufactories of those days when, in L 7 84, with a steady 
and highly respectable young man, who had, as apprentice 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 3i> 

and journeyman in my father's manufactory, saved four or 
five hundred pounds, I began business ; I felt the responsi- 
bility, and determined to do my best. I was not ambitious 
farther than being anxious to keep rising a little ; whilst I 
was dreadfully afraid of the least retrograding step. I was 
of a most active disposition ; I made my business my plea- 
sure, and was indefatigable. It was an occupation that 
suited me; it required considerable taste, ingenuity, and 
invention. My partner was clever as a workman, but 
greatly deficient as a tradesman. Good-tempered, meek and 
lowly, he was easily imposed upon : he required a constant 
check with one hand, and a spur with the other ; he bore 
both admirably, and for forty years we went on most ami- 
cably together. He was the first that ever put silver edges 
on plated goods. His father and mother, reduced by mis- 
fortunes, were among the first of John Wesley's disciples in 
this neighbour-hood, abiding faithfully and patiently the 
rudeness and persecution of the brutal mob. Their son 
remained firmly and steadily attached to the same increasing 
sect of christians. Humble-minded and unassuming, he 
gave offence to none : without condemning either the con- 
duct or opinion of others, without seeking or wishing to 
stand prominently distinguished, he steadily and meekly 
pursued the calm and even tenor of his own course. To 
him, perhaps, and to another partner, a member of the 
Church of England, whose conduct was equally exemplary, 
I may have owed, in a great measure, that blessing of God 
which attended and prospered me in business during the 
period of half a century. The first, Mr. George Cadman, 
was a few years older than myself; the latter, Mr. George 
In gall, was considerably younger. 



fcO .\r rOBIOGRAPHY and 

W e rlid qo1 begin on a large scale, and by degrees we g< 

a set of steady workmen, whose conduct led others to join 
then. We had seen and appreciated sufficientlj the evils oi 
licentiousness iu workmen, to make us resolve to employ 
none but steady ones. They soon felt the advantage of 
being out of the way of evil example My partner's cha- 
racter, talents, and conduct were well known among them. 
We had the females employed in a separate building, to 
which the workmen had no admission. "We got quit of the 
annual feast, and put a stop to all drinking parties in the 
working-rooms. These things were the work of time, but 
there was a regular progress in improvement. 

During the last thirty or forty years, when our workmen 
were much increased in numbers, order, steadiness, regularity, 
and respectability prevailed more, perhaps, than ever was ex- 
perienced before among the same number of working people 
in any manufactory. This astonishing change in the conduct 
and character of our workpeople was happily not confined to 
them : it has been in a great degree extended to the whole 
(as a class) of silver-platers here. Many of the females em- 
ployed by us remained with us (respectable characters) till 
they from age became past working. Numbers of our work- 
men have saved considerable sums, and are possessed of real 
property. While they had full work, very few were ever 
absent from it improperly. I scarcely recollect hearing a 
profane or indecent expression amongst them during many 
years. 

After a firm stand was once made to the great and growing 
depravity of the workmen in the plated line, many circum- 
stances combined to raise them to an elevation above work- 
men in, perhaps, any other line. The wages which the) 



SELECT EEMAINS OF SAMUEL EOBEHTS. 4l 

could earn were (in proportion to others) high. Young 
children could not be employed : a desire to put boys to it 
was thereby much increased. Fourteen was the general age 
of those taken as apprentices, and twenty pounds, or two 
years' board, were generally expected with them. This 
caused the boys taken to be respectabj educated ones : this 
has been one great advantage. Another has been, that fluc- 
tuation in the prices of making plated goods has been almost 
unknown : whether trade was good or bad, the prices paid 
for making remained the same. So it was with the price of 
the goods sold. However silver or copper, tin, or other 
articles, might rise or fall, the gross price of plated goods re- 
mained the same. Disputes between masters and men have 
therefore of late been very few. 

I shall mention another advantage as attaching to the 
Sheffield workmen in the plated line ; for to them, I fear, 
the superiority is confined. A general conviction has pre- 
vailed from the first among the manufacturers of plated goods 
at Sheffield, that it was their interest to maintain the quality 
of their goods. There have been exceptions, but only a few 
instances of no importance. That, however, has not been 
the case at Birmingham, where articles of a very inferior 
quality are commonly manufactured for the common market. 
This has been a means of purifying our plated working-class 
at Sheffield. It has induced our bad workmen and depraved 
characters to leave us, and to go to seek employment there. 
This, while it has raised the character of our working-class, 
has raised also the character of our goods, and has served to 
keep up their prices. The number of workmen in the plated 
line are comparatively few. Great skill is required, and 
therefore the trade cannot be much over-stocked, as the 



42 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

mast its can now take few apprentices, while depraved cha 

ractcrs In. in other trades cannot obtain admission. 

Though possessed of but little property, with almost al 
the burthen of the business resting upon myself, I had dim" 
culties enough to surmouut : these were not, I am convinced 
more than were good for me. I am almost of opinion, witl 
good old Thomas Colley,* the then celebrated Quakd 
minister, that if a young man obtains by honest industry the 
first five hundred pounds that he becomes possessed of, he 
rarely afterwards fails to prosper in the world. That was 
the case with myself. Erom the first, my business, though 
not extensive, prospered — of course with fluctuations. I 
was never avaricious; I could always have been contented 
as I was; but I was more disposed to thankfulness than re- 
pining. I expected from the first to encounter many diffi- 
culties and troubles in the world, relying very little on its 
enjoyments. I experienced much more happiness than I 

* Mr. Thomas Colley was a Sheffield lad of low origin and loose 
conduct : he enlisted young in the army, and was for some time a 
drummer. After many years, obtaining his discharge, he worked for 
my father, as a journeyman in the cutlery business. For some time, 
his conduct was uot much improved ; but at length be joined the then 
new sect of Methodists, and after a while the Quakers or Friends. 
His conduct was now exemplary, and he became an acknowledged 
Minister among them ; as such he was highly esteemed and useful, 
visitmg several times in the ministry both Ireland and the United 
States of America, to the seeming neglect of an extensive business 
which he then earned on, and which his wife, during- his absence, 
(though with young children,) managed apparently well and easily. 
He was one of the most esteemed and popular of their Ministers. ] 
always considered him as the most meek, humble, and perfect Chris 
tian that I ever knew. 






SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 43 

had anticipated. I had very early in life been convinced 
that he most certainly increases his own happiness, who, 
almost disregarding it, seeks earnestly to promote that of all 
those with whom he is most intimately connected ; and the 
experience of more than half a century since has served fully 
to confirm that opinion. 

When possessed of very little property, I began to set 
apart a small proportion of my income to give to the poor ; 
and to my astonishment was considered liberal, while what I 
gave amounted to very little. 

Till I was forty years of age, I avoided, as much as I 
could, taking an active part in any public situation — ap- 
plying myself closely to business during the first twelve 
years ; that is, till I married. I had very few young ac- 
quaintances, and went very little into company. From a 
child I spent much time in drawing and painting, till (I 
believe when about fifty) I felt myself forbidden to con- 
tinue a practice which was taking my time and attention 
from much more important objects and pursuits. The 
relinquishment of it was to me like cutting off a right hand, 
but I did not hesitate. I found that I must do it wholly, 
and, with two or three little exceptions, I have since dis- 
continued it, except in my business. Had I pursued it as a 
calling, with proper instructions, I might perhaps have 
excelled. Another practice, which I commenced later in 
life, has continued with unabated, and even increased 
strength to the present time, namely, that of writing for 
publication. I think that the first essay which I sent to 
the press was written when I was about twenty-seven years 
of age. It was a satire on the then new fashion of hiding 
the chin in voluminous neck bandages, which I traced to two 



J l a i TOBIOGB \ r I ; Y ami 

. namely, the brainless and the scrofulous. This 
passed off very well; tile practice however, in spite of my 
strictures, has kept its ground during half a century, per- 
haps from the continued prevalence of the complaints. Soon 
after that period the French Revolution broke out, and that 
introduced to the knowledge of the lieges here, the re- 
doubted Thomas Paine. From the commencement of the 
Revolution, though I saw the necessity of something being 
done, I felt a conviction that profligacy and misery would 
be its result. I had always a strong aversion to the 
French. I thought them frivolous and vile. I soon was 
convinced that we were in great danger of being drawn into 
the vortex of their career of destruction. From a child I 
dearly loved my country. I always felt assured that she 
was the happiest and best. I had considered but little 
about the means by which she became such ; but, being so, 
I did not like to change them, at the suggestion of those 
whom I had always believed foolish, and who then appeared 
to be going mad. Tom Paine' s "Rights of Man" appeared 
at that time; I saw and heard enough of the book to see at 
once through its sophistry. To many — even professed 
ministers of the Gospel — it appeared to become dearer than 
their Bible, and their visits to their flock were made with 
the "Rights of Man" in their pockets, to induce them to 
read it. These proceedings roused me, and I expressed my 
feelings freely and strongly, and ventured to send this, my 
first controversial essay, to our popular paper, for we had 
none else; I had, however, no sooner sent it, than I trem- 
bled for the consequences, and often wished it in my pocket 
again. I shall never forget the agitation with which I took 
up the next week's paper at the news-room, and read a reply 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL .ROBERTS. 45 

which I felt at the time convinced would stop my scribbling 
for the press for ever. And yet it was as stupid a composi- 
tion as could well be written, and one which, afterwards, it 
would have delighted me to answer — for, if I know my fort, 
it is in answering an opponent. I doubt if, since that time, 
that is during forty years, there is an individual in the 
kingdom, who, engaged as I have been in both public and 
private business, has, without fee, or reward, written and 
published so much as I have done. I formed, soon after I 
commenced author, two resolutions : 1st. Never to publish 
anything that I was not fully convinced was favourable to 
morality and religion ; and, 2ndly. Never to publish for 
profit. I felt assured that the gift of writing, as far as I 
possessed it, was given me in addition to those talents by 
which I had to make my way in the world ; these I exer- 
cised freely and fully, and, by the blessing of God, success- 
fully, for that end; but I considered the other talent as 
bestowed on me for the benefit of others — especially for the 
Poor. It may be inquired what I, who had no learning, 
could write about so often, and for so long a period, that 
would be likely to make others either wiser or better. I 
have written on almost every subject which has, in the 
period, peculiarly attracted the notice of the public, local as 
well as national. I am a warm feeler and a great thinker, 
so that few such subjects escaped my attention : I wrote 
then, generally, because I felt, and because I consequently 
thought. I found it useful too, in arranging and fixing my 
thoughts, so that I should be able better to know them 
myself than I otherwise should have done; and conduced 
to improve the habit of thinking. I never sat down to 
write till the whole subiect was well thought over, and 



Mi AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

pretty full] arranged in my mind; so thai on taking up my 
pen, my difficulty was, generally, to express the ideas fast 
enough to prevent their escaping. As to style, 1 never 
thoughl about it. 1 always sought to express myself in 
the plainest way, and in the fewest words, so as to make 
myself easily and fully understood. As to learning, I felt 
little want of it; I have ever found that on subjects within 
the reach of his understanding, the thinking, though un- 
learned, is oftener right than the learned man. The 
thoughts of the former have a more unimpeded course ; his 
pinions work more freely, and he dares loftier flights after 
truth, which he seeks in the sides, while the other is look- 
ing for her at the bottom of a draw-well. I must here 
remark, that I have ever looked to, and depended upon, the 
enlightening of the Holy Spirit of God rather than the 
teaching of man, to lead me to a knowledge of the truth, 
and enable me to disclose it to others. Of the numerous 
publications which, in the course of forty years, 1 have sent 
into the world, principally on either political or religious 
subjects, I am not aware of one which I am anxious to 
recal, nor, perhaps, many containing sentiments materially 
at variance with those which I now entertain. I have not 
been attached to party or sect, but am persuaded that I 
have not been blinded by prejudice to the merits of any. 
My object, in a great part of my publications of a local 
nature, having been the exposure of falsehood, vice, and 
folly, it may be imagined that 1 have been attacked by 
swarms of the insects whose workings I have disturbed, the 
more so, from m\ having had more the habit of laughing at 
their follies than weeping at their vice. 1 was accordingly 
assailed with unmerciful abuse, which, being always in the 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL UOBERTS. 47 

same strain, I advised them to get stereotyped. I never 
felt enmity against any man, or body of men. I have ever 
felt too sensible of my own need of forgiveness from God, to 
be implacable to my fellow creatures. 

Convinced through life that nothing happens but by the 
ordainment of God, I have felt that one way or other all 
occurrences must be for the best ; I have, therefore, been in 
the constant habit of endeavouring to discover the way in 
which all things were meant to act for good, as well as to 
turn them (however apparently untoward) to good account. 
I believe, further, that I have rarely failed in either dis- 
covering a merciful purpose for them, or turning them to a 
beneficial one. Thus, constantly looking upon God as a 
tender affectionate Father, not only waiting to be gracious, 
but also making all things work together for good, I could 
not but be thankful continually. It was matter for 
humble confidence to myself, that I, who would often have 
shrunk with fear and trepidation in the presence of an 
earthly monarch, never experienced fear in the presence of 
the King of Kings and Lord of Lords : on the contrary, 
those were the sweetest and calmest moments of my life in 
which, in silence and solitude, either in light or in dark- 
ness, I could hold the most intimate communion — my 
heart and my eyes overflowing — Math my heavenly Father. 
The more I felt of the abasement and humility of a little 
child, the more I felt of the assurance that nothing could 
harm me. I believe I felt a degree of love such as (though 
not perfect) sufficed to cast out fear. "Thank God!" and 
" Praise the Lord, oh, my soul, and forget not all his 
benefits \" were my most frequent ejaculations. I know not 
if it were so, but I always conceived that scarcely any other 



1 8 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

human being had equal cause for thankfulness with myself: 
if, then, 1 had not been thankful, I had been of all men the 
most ungrateful. Nothing could annoy me much more 
than hearing men with all the comforts, and many of the 
luxuries of life, perpetually dissatisfied with everything of 
either a public or private nature. I Lave through life 
enjoyed in a remarkable degree an active mind in an active 
body ; buoyant with hope, but not hope fixed too high, so 
that I was but rarely disappointed. I was mercifully placed 
in a situation the most adapted to the production of happi- 
ness : I was neither poor nor rich. In beginning business 
I had little of an earthly nature, but my own exertions to 
depend on for success. The blessed curse of Adam's race 
clung to me : I liked it, and improved it. The business 
was one that exactly suited me, entailing constant mental 
and bodily exercise. Anxious to do all for the best, and 
impatient of opposition, few, indeed, would have suited me 
as partners : those with whom I was favoured suited me 
exactly. "We were always harmonious : my business as 
much a pleasure as a duty to me. My companions were 
few : my friends fewer still. In them I was peculiarly 
favoured. I was not without the allotted afflictions of life, 
but I expected them : I strove to consider them as the 
necessary beneficial corrections of an affectionate Father, 
and was mercifully supported under them. If all these 
mercies bestowed upon a poor helpless worm (as 1 always 
felt that I was) had not produced a strong and constantly 
abiding sense of gratitude to Almighty God, the giver of 
them all, i must have been stupid as I was vile. 

I have never. I think, been accused of enthusiasm : the 
faith which I have possessed L have kepi pretty much to 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 49 

myself before God ; at any rate, I have made no proud 
boasting of it. Believing what is called religious conversa- 
tion, where it is not the offspring, to be too often the 
parent of vanity, I have thought it best to leave my actions 
to speak for me : they are the fruits by which both man and 
God will judge us. 

On political and religious questions, I found myself as 
free as man in this life, I believe, well can be, to think and 
act with impartiality. I have been as little of a man-pleaser 
on these subjects as most men living. Instead of courting 
popularity, I felt as if I should have been ashamed of it. 
I have almost through life seen that the temporary attainers 
of it have been generally bad men, actuated in their endea- 
vours to acquire it by bad motives. *■##■* 

The preceding biographical fragment brings down the life 
of Mr. Iioberts to the early part of the present century, em- 
bracing about half of his extended earthly sojourn. Then 
it was that, having so long, in the walks of strictly private 
life, done justly, loved meicy, and walked humbly with his 
God, he became, by degrees, a public character. 

He was appointed Overseer of the Poor about 1804, in 
conjunction with a gentleman who was afterwards his asso- 
ciate in many a good work, and subsequently known as a 
circumnavigator of the globe in the service of the London 
Missionary Society. Thus commenced a friendship which 
formed the first link in that chain which subsequently 
connected in life-long union, — Samuel Roberts, George 
Bennett, Rowland Hodgson, and James Montgomery. 

Erom this period may be dated the special interest felt by 

D 



50 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

Mr. Roberts in the Poor Laws of Elizabeth, and the high 
importance which he attached to them. 

Having thus made his first entry on public office, about 
the same period he commenced Poet, by sending for insertion. 
in the Iris, of the 2d of November, 1804, the following 
Ballad. 



My chaise the village inn did gain, 
Just as the setting sun's last ray, 

Tipp'd with refulgent gold the vane 
Of the old church across the way. 

Across the way I silent sped, 

The time till supper to beguile, 
By moralizing o'er the dead 

That mouldered round the ancient pile. 

There many a humble green grave shew'd 
Where want, and pain, and toil did rest ; 

And many a flattering stone I viewed, 

O'er those who once had wealth possessed. 

A faded beech its shadow brown 

Threw o'er a grave where sorrow slept ; 

On which, though scarce with grass o'ergrown, 
Two ragged children sat and wept. 

A piece of bread between them lay, 
Which neither seemed inclined to take, 

And yet they looked so much a prey 
To want, it made my heart to ache. 



SELECT REMAINS OE SAMUEL ROBERTS. 51 

" My little children,, let me know, 

Why you in such distress appear ? 
And why }^ou wasteful from you throw 

That bread which many a heart would cheer ?" 

The little boy, in accents sweet, 

Replied, while tears each other chased : 

" Lady ! we've not enough to eat, 
And if we had we would not waste. 

" But sister Mary's naughty grown, 

And will not eat, whate'er I say, 
Though sure I am the bread's her own, 

And she has tasted none to-day." 

" Indeed," the wan, starved Mary said, 

" Till Henry eats I'll taste no more, 
For yesterday I got some bread, 

He's had none since the day before." 

My heart did swell, my bosom heave, 
I felt as though deprived of speech ; 

I silent sat upon the grave 

And press' d a clay cold hand of each. 

With looks that told a tale of woe, 
With looks that spoke a grateful heart, 

The shivering boy did nearer draw, 
And thus that tale of woe impart. 

"Before my father went away, 

Enticed by bad men o'er the sea, 
Sister and I did naught but play ; 

We lived beside yon great ash tree : 



5 ! AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

"But then poor mother did so cry, 
And look'd so changed, I cannot tell, 

She told us that she soon should die, 
And bade us love each other well. 

" She said that when the war was o'er, 
Perhaps we might our father see ; 

But if we never saw him more. 

That God woidd then our father be. 

" She kissed us both, and then she died, 
And we no more a mother have : 

Here many a day we sat and cried 
Together on poor mother's grave. 

" But when our father came not here, 
I thought if we could find the sea 

We should be sure to meet him there, 
And once again might happy be. 

" We hand in hand went many a mile, 
And asked our way of all we met ; 

And some did sigh, and some did smile, 
And we of some did victuals get. 

' c But when we reached the sea, and found 
'Twas one great water round us spread ; 

We thought that father must be drown'd, 
And cried and wished we both were dead. 

" So we're returned to mother's grave, 
And only long with her to be ; 

For Goody, when this bread she gave, 
Said father died bevond the sea. 



SELECT REMAINS OE SAMUEL ROBERTS, 53 

w Then, since no parents we have here, 
We'll go and seek for God around. 

Lady, pray can yon tell us where 

That God our Father may be found ? 

*' He lives in heaven, mother said, 
And Goody says that mother's there • 

So if she knows we want his aid, 

I think perhaps she'll send him here." 

I clasped the prattler to my breast, 

And cried — " Come both and live with me ; 

I'll clothe you, feed you, give you rest, 
And will a second mother be ; 

tc And God will be your father still, 
'Twas He in mercy sent me here, — 

To teach you to obey his will, 

Your steps to guide, your hearts to cheer." 

The Sheffield Iris was at this period conducted by 
James Montgomery, as yet known only as the author of 
Prison Amusements (two years previous to the publication 
of the Wanderer of Switzerland), and personally almost 
unknown to Mr. Eoberts. The appearance of the above 
ballad in his paper was followed by a short communication 
from him which thus commences — 

'•' Harsthead, Wednesday, Nov. 14, 1804. 
"Me. Eoberts, 

• c Sir, — I have sent a few copies of your interesting ballad, 
which you will please to accept as a very slight acknowledg- 



5 I AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

nieut of the affecting delight with which I have repeatedly 
read it." 

• 

About 1806, he was called on by a Quaker lady of the 
name of Fairbanks who was thus the means of first directing 
his attention to the sufferings of climbing boys. In conjunction 
with his friends, Mr. Montgomery, Mr. Bennett, and another 
neighbouring gentleman (Mr. T. A. Ward), he then formed an 
association for the abolition of the use of climbing boys in 
sweeping chimneys, which gave the first impulse to the 
friends of humanity in this new r cause, round which they 
speedily rallied, as the gathering cry passed from town to 
town through the United Kingdom : the result being, thai 
the use of climbing boys in sweeping chimneys was recently 
declared illegal by act of Parliament — a triumph most joy- 
fully hailed, but wdiich, in common with every earthly 
triumph, had its drawback. It yet remains for the champions 
of the same cause to enforce the penalty of the. law on its 
infringers, without which it will be but a dead letter. 

The following lines were written about tins period : — 

THE SONG OF THE POOR LITTLE SWEEP. 

How dark is the morning ; the thick clouds how scowling ; 

How sharp the sleet pierces ; the snow drifts how deep ; 
How frightful to hear the wild storm-spirits howling, 

Thus mixed with the shrill cries of "poor little sweep!* 

How dreadful the solitude now that surrounds me, 

"Whilst shivering with cold through the still town I creep; 

And the rough broken ice, which both chills me and wounds 
me, 
Tis stained with the blood drops of poor little sweep 






SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 55 

O see ! where the dark clouds are partings a bright star 
Appears through the opening with pity to peep ; 

It twinkles so lovely as if, in the night far, 

It wept for the sufferings of poor little sweep. 

What ar't thou, fair mourner, that with such good nature 
Thus seem'st for a poor little orphan to weep ? 

The scorn of all mortals, the dread of each creature, 
A lone friendless outcast, a, poor little sweep. 

The gentleman said, I'd a father in Heaven, 

Whose care never slumbered, whose eye cannot sleep ; 

Whose pity to children is constantly given, 

And sees all the sufferings of poor little sweep. 

O, should yon sweet star be the eye of that father, 

What mean these strange feelings that round my heart 



creep 



They are so delightful, than lose them I'd rather 
For ever continue a poor little sweep. 

It must, O, it must be his glories that cheer me, 

Which fill me with gladness, and make my heart leap ; 

Then hear me, my Father in Heaven ! hear me ! 
And take to thy mercy the poor little sweep. 

Particular instances of cruelty to climbing boys, in his 
native town, were, from time to time, occupying his atten- 
tion and efforts, or occasionally bringing him, on their 
behalf, before the magistrates. 

It was at an early period in the present century that 
Mr. R. became a decided and earnest advocate for the 



DO AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

abolition in all cases of the punishment of death, and 
substitution of solitary confinement. He considered such 
punishment inefficient as a preventive of crime, and 
believed it inconsistent with the spirit of Christianity, and 
an usurpation of the prerogative of the Almighty, thus to cut 
off ;i sinner midway in his career of vice. Numerous were 
his publications on this subject, which, as it had his early, 
so ii had his latest energies, for this was not a subject on 
which he saw the consummation of his desires ; but he did 
live to see the abolition of that punishment in the majority 
of cases to which it was before attached — a result on which 
it will scarcely, perhaps, be thought that his efforts may not 
have had some bearing, by those who know how persevering 
and how energetic those efforts were. 

He was once induced to visit, in Newgate Prison, a 
young man there awaiting the execution of sentence of 
death for forgery : the circumstance is thought worthy of 
mention here, because no occasion can be imagined on which 
the sacrifice of feeling to duty, which he must have made, 
would be greater than on this. 

He was one of the first to hold forth the state littery to 
public reprobation ; his communications on which subject 
to the Sheffield Iris so effectually addressed themselves to 
the conscience of the editor (Mr. Montgomery), that he 
forthwith closed the columns of his newspaper to all adver- 
tisements on the subject — a step entailing on him some 
pecuniary sacrifice. In parliament this cause (as well as 
that of the abolition of the use of climbing boys), was 
consistently supported by Mr. W'ilberforee, who never let 
slip (nor would the monitor at his ear permit him to forget) 
;ni\ favourable opportunity of advancing either. 



SELECT REMAINS OP SAMUEL ROBERTS. 5? 

For twenty years the state lottery continued the object 
of Mr. Roberts' incessant warfare: in common with every 
work his hand found to do, he did this work with his might 
— his strokes again and again were redoubled : he saw it 
totter before him — at last it fell,, and its place was no more 
found. He published, in conjunction with Mr. Mont- 
gomery, in 1817, a work entitled the State Lottery, and 
Thoughts on Wheels. 

Perhaps it may scarcely be thought requisite to suppress 
the following little effusion of paternal partiality which was 
written by Mr. Roberts in 1811. 

THE BOWER OF INNOCENCE. 

On a Rustic Bower, constructed by the author's children, during the 
holidays, in a small wood near his residence. 

Gentle redbreast, hither bring 
Every beauty of the spring ; 
Bring each budding leaf and flower, 
To adorn this rustic bower ; 
Tor those babes in days of old, 
Murdered for the thirst of gold, 
Whose sweet forms, by pity led, 
You entombed in leafy bed, 
Were not innocent and gay, 
Lovely, good, and blest as they, 
Who with hands united, wove 
This retreat of infant love. 

Feathered songsters, all unite 
In one chorus of delight. 
e 2 



AUTOBIOGE \ I'll v a WD 

Lark and blackbird, wren and thrush, 
Strain your throats en wing or bush ; 
Yet no breast among your band, 
Does with more delighl expand, 

Than the hearts of those who here 
(Free from pain, and care, and fear), 
See with rapture and surprise, 
This their first great work arise. 

Flowers, of every scent and dye, 
Come and with each other vie ; 
Primrose, bluebell, violet, spread 
Sweets and beauties round the shed ; 
Flora's transient, loveliest flower, 
Wild rose, join to deck the bower, 
Come too, woodbine, rambler wild, 
Nature's favourite, wayward child ; 
Yet when all your beauties join, 
And when all your sweets combine, 
They whose work to deck ye grew, 
Are as sweet and fair as you. 

Glorious orb, whose setting rays, 
Dart between the glowing sprays ; 
Robes of pearl and burnished gold, 
Thy resplendent form enfold ; 
In the chambers of the west, 
Thou retir'st, but not to rest ; 
For thy cheering radiance tlies 
To enlighten other skies. 
Ere again thy beams appear, 
This abode of peace to cheer, 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 59 

On what scenes of varied woe 
Shall their warmth unnoticed glow? 
To what scenes of noisy mirth 
Shall then welcome light give birth ? 
Yet on greater, truer bliss, 
Innocence more pure than this. 
Thou wilt never dart a ray, 
Through thy long extended way. 

Children, as your task you ply, 
I a shadowy form espy, 
Who unceasing aids your toil, 
Though by you unseen the while. 
Though his scythe is cast away, 
And though smiles his looks display, 
Yet I know Ins name is Time, 
(Still abus'd in every clime) ; 
Time, the friend of girls and boys, 
Adding to their charms and joys ; 
Scenes and works like these he loves, 
And with ceaseless toil improves ; 
When in learning's paths you stray, 
Far from hence at school away ; 
If you Time improve when there, 
He'll improve your labours here. 

Oft at evening's welcome hour 
Let me ramble to your bower, 
And beneath its leafy shade 
Think of those by whom 'twas made. 
Well ye chose to place your grot 
In this calm secluded spot ; 



60 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

Tor within this silent dell, 
Safe may contemplation dwell. 
Awful is the gloom profound, 
Nought but Nature's works around ; 
All is silent, all is still, 
Save the tinkling of the rill; 
Save the rustling of the trees, 
Stirr'd by gentle passing breeze ; 
Save the song of nightingale, 
Warbling down the winding vale. 
Sounds, to Nature's children dear, 
Ever welcome to my ear, 
Ye can soothe the troubled breast, 
Hushing worldly cares to rest. 
Midst this awful gloom profound, 
Let me listen to their sound ; 
And, with grateful heart, adore 
Him to whom they praises pour. 
Let me in those praises join, 
Owning all His ways divine ; 
Tracing Nature from the clod, 
Up to Nature's awful God. 
All bespeak Him present here, 
While His works around appear, 
Peace and safety to dispense 
O'er this Bower of Innocence. 

The following was not of much later date : — 

How drear and awful is this solitude ! 
Nature herself is surely dead, and o'er 



SELECT REMAINS OE SAMUEL ROBEKTS. 61 

Her cold and stiffened corse, a winding sheet 
Of bright unsullied purity is thrown. 
How still she lies ! she smiles, she moves no more ! 
Yon aged birch, whose pale and leafless boughs 
O'erhung the stream, hath wept itself to death. 
The merry stream, that late with dance and song 
Did glad the day and night, now silent lies 
Inanimate, congealed to crystal gems ; 
'Tis beautiful in death ! 

The leafy grove, 
That wont to woo with serenade the stream 
From morn till eve, with songs of countless choirs, 
And all the night with those heart-thrilling strains 
In which ]one Philomel laments her love, 
Now silent stands, a bleached skeleton. 
The Atmosphere, — that soft translucent veil, 
Through whose thin texture seen, more lovely peered 
The beauteous aspect of the blushing heavens, 
Is now become their dense and dreary shroud. 
The Sun, that moving source of warmth and life, 
Arrested in his path, now seems to stand 
A cold, inanimate, and rayless orb. 
Nought else is seen. 

How awful is it thus, 
When all beside is dead, to be with God : 
To feel assured that His all-searching eye 
Surveys each secret thought ; to feel how vain, 



0~ AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

How empty are the joys, the hopes, and fears, 
The pomps and follies of this short-kVd world. 
There is a voice which oft in silence speaks; 

The still small voice of God — then loudest heard : 
Tt pierces deep the heart, and from the eyes 
Calls forth the sparkling gem, which trembling lies 
The accepted offering at the Throne of Grace. 

A few years after the time when, in the office of Overseer 
of the Poor, he was first brought in contact with Mr. 
George Bennett, they both contracted a growing intimacy 
with Mr. Rowland Hodgson, when the three friends com- 
menced the practice of dining together, at regular inter- 
vals, and in rotation, at the houses of each other ; with 
these three ere long a fourth was associated, in the person 
of Mr. Montgomery, and it was in an occurrence on one of 
these occasions that the following lines originated, pub- 
lished in 1S16 : — 

THE FOUR, FRIENDS. — A FABLE. 

Part I. 
The frost was keen, the stars were bright, 
The fire gave warmth, the candles light ; 
Four friends were met in social chat, 
To canvass tins and censure that, 
And shew the loss the State sustains 
From not employing men with brains ; 
For ignorance it is that racks us, — 
Your men of parts would never tax us ; 



SELECT REMAINS OE SAMUEL ROBERTS. 63 

And any of these friends in place, 

Had kept the nation from disgrace. 

They proved that Commons, Peers, and Kings, 

Were, after all, but useless things : 

The union of Church and State 

Gave rise to long and grave debate : 

Yet all agreed the ill-match' d pair 

Could never aught but monsters rear. 

With wine, which swam upon the table, 
And in their heads, these friends were able 
To trace the blunders of the war, 
By Nelson made at Trafalgar ; 
And Wellington, at Waterloo, 
Who chanc'd, indeed, to blunder through ; 
Although to wise men here 'twas plain, 
That Chance alone the field did gain. 
They clearly proved that Billy Pitt 
Was for a financier unfit ; 
'Twas true, things turned out mighty well, 
But who on earth the cause could tell ? 
To all it was a source of wonder, 
Since blunder only followed blunder ; 
They trusted yet the times to see, 
When something like consistency 
Should guide the Counsels of the State, 
And men of sense alone be great : 
They would not either cringe or plot, 
And yet they well knew what was what ; 
In short, 'twas plain each meant to tell, 
He could himself do all things well. 



6 1- AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

Now, by tlic gentle host's desire. 
They form a circle round the lire: 

" Bless me, my friend," cries Mr. JR, , 

" What awkward creatures servants are ! 
"lis quite enough a man to craze 
To see a fire with scarce a blaze, 
So, if you'll give me leave, my friend, 
I'll try my hand your fire to mend." 
Then, with the poker, at a stroke, 
The large coal he to pieces broke, 
Which, giving way, the smothering small 
Slipt forward, and extinguished all 
The little blaze. His neighbour cries, 

('Twas Mr. M ) " Sir, you surprise 

Me very much : look here, admire, 
And learn of me to mend a fire." — 
The poker from Iris friend he took, 
And with a self-important look, 
The bottom bars completely cleared ; 
He then the shovel upward reared 
Against the grate ; but, as in spite, 
It only served to hide the light, 
Which he had placed it there to nurse : 
In fact, the fire grew worse and worse. 

Two having failed, up Mr. J3 

Sedately rose, — " Now, you shall see, 
When judgment docs with art unite, 
They can, and will, set all things right," 
This said, he straightway in the nook 
The shovel placed, — the tongs then took, 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 65 

And, one by one, the coals uprearecl 
So lightly, that it seemed he feared 
That, mortal like, those which were high 
Would press too hard the lower fry ; 
Still he, like most of human kind, 
Who have at once two things to mind, 
In doing so, forgot the other, 
And all his care but caused a pother. 
For while the building was erected, 
He the foundation had neglected ; 
That giving way, his work so nice 
Was all demolished in a trice, 
And hard and small together blended, 
The fire made worse instead of mended. 

Some men there are whose powers more high 
Ascend, to meet necessity ; 
Who feel more certain of success, 
When common mortals feel the less. 

Such Mr. H , the generous host, 

Possessed of talents few can boast. 
He long had marked with jealous eye, 
A large broad shale, which flat did lie, 
And stopped the current of the air. 
Of this resolved the fire to clear, 
By gentle means at first he strove 
The vile intruder to remove ; 
But 'twas too thick the bars to pass, 
Too hard to break where then it was ; 
Still undismayed, he persevered, 
Nor danger saw, nor failure feared ; 



OG AUTOBIOGRAPHY AMD 

The poker fixing firm and right, 

He wrenched with all his main and might, 

Out bounced the shale, and, with the same, 

A load of glowing embers came, 

Which flew on every side about ; 

In short, the fire itself went out. 

To Me. M. 

At your request, my friend, thus I 
The fable write; — the moral you supply. 

Samuel Eobekts. 



Containing the Sequel, the Moral, and a Hint to the Reader. 

To Mr. E. 

Blank looked the friends at one another. 
Each eager to accuse his brother ; 
Then all, at once, by instinct cry, 
"Who did it ?" "Did it ?" "Twasn'tl!" 
" Not you ? Why did not you begin ?" 

Quoth M to E , "The fire was in, 

But you must make a furious rout ; 
Now see the end — the fire is out .'" 

" Out \" answered E , ''■ and so are you, 

In common sense and logic too. 

Who ever heard before this inning, 

The ends the same as the beginning ? 

What could ensue but ruination, 

When you had sapped the whole foundation. 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 67 

And B had built with curious care 

A cob-coal castle in the air, 

Whose walls down toppled, such its brevity, 

Not by their weight, but by their levity !" 

Here B broke out, "My cob-coal castle 

Has fallen indeed — so fell the Bastile; 

But you first broke the round material, 

And made me build in style aerial, 

Yet this I did with such ability, 

It still had stood in fair fragility, 

But chance, — was ever chance so scurvy ? 

Tumbled my Babel topsy-turvy ; 

Such luck would make a stoic sigh, 

The fire looked black, and so did I ; 

Yet both had brightened up anew 

If there had been no more ado ; 

But H , who always must be one, 

When any good is to be done, 

Smash through the grate the poker dashes, 

And turns the whole to dust and ashes \" 



" H exclaimed, " your idle sparring, 

I only proved your mending marring ; 
I brought you to my nice fire-side, 
But you, when each his hand had tried, 
Left not a spark of all the flame ; 
And is not that a burning shame ? " 

Thus H , the meekest man you see, 

And M , who would not hurt a flea, 



68 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AM) 

Ami lv , to all men's failings blind, 

Ami 13 , the kindest of his kind, 

Sat round the dark and smouldering grate, 

In skirmishes of keen debate ; 

Willi eyes, months, faces, tongues, they fight, 

And all were wrong, and all were right j 

For each was right, so says my song, 

In thinking all the rest were wrong j 

And still, so late they held that bout, 

They talked the very candles out. 

Darkness and cold they never heeded, 

For neither fire nor light they needed j 

Their breasts with noble ardour burned, 

And flash for flash their brains returned ; 

Electrical as cats i' th' dark, 

At every touch they gave a spark ; 

And thus, like flint and steel's confliction, 

Kept themselves warm with contradiction. 



THE MORAL. 

The easiest thing beneath the sun 
Is, to find fault with all that's done 
The hardest, so perverse is man, 
Is, to do only what he can. 
The first position is so clear, 
From all we read and all we hear, 
And, I might add, from all we say, 
That argument were thrown away 
To prove it; 'tis as plain a case, 
As is the nose upon your face : 



SELECT REMAINS OE SAMUEL ROBERTS. 69 

Yet, like that nose, 'tis seldom seen, 
Though fairly placed both eyes between ; 
In fact, it stands too near the sight, 
Without a glass to see it right : 
Now such a glass the fable is. 
To shew this feature of your phiz. 
The first part offers demonstration 
Of man's fault-fin cling inclination; 
The poker proves position second, 
A truth not quite so obvious reckoned. 

To what do men of parts aspire, 

Whether in politics or fire, 

In public or in private life, 

In social converse or in strife, — 

What is the point they all would gain ? 

Why, any point they can't maintain ! 

They speak, and look, and stand, and go, 

Do nothing, every thing, to shew 

Less what they can than what they cannot, 

Less what they have than what they ha' not. 

As each one's powers, in his own eyes, 

Are twice, at least, their natural size, 

So each would fain to others seem 

As great as in his own esteem. 

Thus the four wise ones in the fable, 

To mend a fire were all unable ; 

Yet each in turn must needs fall to it, 

And prove by deeds he could not do it : 

Yet was there something in that case, 

Each might have done, and done with grace. 



711 Al TOBIOGB \. 11 V AND 

\Vli;ii was ii ? Thai may soon be shown, 
He might ha\e lei tin- lire alone ! 
Ergo — the hardest thing to man 
Is — to do only what he can i 



A HINT TO THE READER. 

"Who were these four?" with wondering eyes 

And scornful nose, the reader cries. 

Fll tell you ; — go into the street, 

And catch the first three men you meet ; 

Engage with them in hearty chat, 

On any subject, this or that, 

Or set yourselves on any work, — 

Then, Christian, Pagan, Jew, or Turk, 

I'll pledge these verses, and no more, 

You and the three will make the four. 

J. M. 

Mr. E. never travelled in search of Pleasure, — he thought 
that she, in common with Hope, "like a phantom flees 
when we pursue ;" he said life was too short to be spent in 
wandering from country to country, and he knew that he 
had a post of duty to maintain, and that post was at home ; 
but, when he did travel, he always found pleasure. In the 
autumn of 1815, business took him to Dublin. The two 
following extracts are from the letter written on his arrival 
there; the first describing part of his land journey through 
"Wales, the second of his voyage from Holyhead. 

"About four o'clock in the morning I was awakened by 
the coach stopping, and being told that we were arrived at 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 71 

Conway Perry, on getting out I was greatly struck by the 
awfulness and sublimity of the scene which presented itself. 
The moon was just past the full, and was then of course 
very high ; the clouds, however, were so exceedingly dense 
and extensive that it was only at short intervals, when it was 
opposed to a thinner cloud, that any light was afforded by 
it, — it never shone out. The outline of immense mountains, 
seemingly a mile or two before us, was partly visible in the 
clouds, amongst which they were, however, in a great 
measure lost. Between two of them — at times I thought I 
could trace the tops of towers and battlements of a castle, 
but how distant, or how situated, it was impossible to des- 
cry ; all before was lost in gloom. A confused murmuring 
of waters was heard on every side ; how near they approached 
us, or how far they extended, could not be seen. Where 
we stood appeared to be sands, and low rugged rocks, lately 
left by the tide. Behind us was a range of low buildings : 
from a small obscure window of one of them faintly gleamed 
a feeble ray of light : from the door, a huge human figure, 
wrapped in a great coat, proceeded in silence towards the 
shore, when, raising what appeared to be an enormous 
trumpet, he applied his mouth to it, and a hollow, loud, and 
mournful kind of roar proceeded from it : this was thrice 
repeated, and for a few moments all was still ; a kind of 
fearful, awful expectation seemed to chain up every sound ; 
at length, from the very bowels of old Conway, the self-same 
loud and hollow roar, with somewhat of diminished force, 
was heard repeated, and repeated thrice, and all again was 
still. The clouds, which gathered every moment thicker 
and thicker, now slowly, like the dark curtain of a theatre, 
solemnly descended and shut out the scene. All was awful 



72 At TOBIOGEAPHTf AND 

obscurity. The winds began to war amongst the mount:, ins 
and the ruins ; the waves, too, lifted up their voices; aud 
the rain descending in the agitated waters, tilled, up the 
awful chorus. We took shelter in the porch of the cabin. 
The uproar still continued, again the trumpet roared, and 
Conway roared again ; — when, at length, a cry was raised, 
f They're coming :' voices were now faintly and distinctly 
heard, mixed with the noise of wind and rain, and waves. 
The dashing oars, too, now were heard, and presently a 
number of human figures were indistinctly seen, some push- 
ing and some dragging a heavy boat through the opposing 
surf. * * * 

* * * « The scene was new and interesting. I lay lis- 
tening to the conversation of the passengers in the cabin, 
the pacing of the captain backwards and forwards on the 
deck, and, every now aud then, to the confused noise of all 
the seamen, altering the direction of the sails to change the 
tack, aud the rippling of the water against the sides of the 
vessel. I got into a sound comfortable sleep, till about mid- 
night, when I awoke, and all was dark and silent. For some 
time, I thought that I w : as dreaming of being on board a 
vessel at sea; and when at length I had recollected the past 
occurrences, and that I really was in such a new situation, the 
sensation was pleasingly awful. I felt no fear : but the idea 
of resting on the immense bosom of the mighty deep — an 
expanse of waters without boundary and of unfathomable 
depth, — was awfully sublime. I felt as if I had become an 
inhabitant of another world. The vessel gently rose and 
fell, and the waves broke with violence against her sides. 
She appeared to be going slowly before the wind." * * * 
In 1817, Mr. Roberts, in conjunction with Mr. Mont- 



SELECT REMAINS OE SAMUEL ROBERTS. 73 

gomery, published the work before referred to, under the 
title of "The State Lottery and Thoughts on Wheels." 
The date of the following lines is 1817 : — 



THE PYRAMID OF COINS : A EABLE. 

Addressed to those mistaken men who imagine that if education be 
afforded to the lower classes, they will obtrude on the stations 
of those above them, and leave their own unoccupied. 

As late I sat, devoid of thought, 

With nought to do — and fit for nought, 

I pored on figures in the fire, 

Which like poor mortals soon expire ; 

Then, like a miser, or a child, 

(By fortune or by mother spoil' d, 

With chest aud thrift-box brimming full, 

And nothing empty but his skull,) 

I fetch' cl again the oft-told store, 

To count it o'er again and o'er. 

Now, with a kind of nonchalance, 
Winch needs no labour of the sconce, 
A pile of weighty pence I rear, 
Coin'd by the town for Overseer ; 
Whose sides the Workhouse here display, 
There Peace and Justice — turn'd away. 
On these I placed some new half-crowns, 
Where lions ramp and monarch frowns ; 
Next, counting guineas three or four, 
(All just returned from foreign tour,) 

E 



74 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

I range tlicm on the silver pile ; 
Then, with a self-complacent smile, 
One sovereign at the top I seat; 
Which makes the Pyramid complete. 

Pleased with the well-proportioned spire, 
I wished to raise the structure higher. 
I raised the sovereign to my mind, 
But all the rest remained behind ; 
The gold — the silver too — I lifted ; 
But they, with no attraction gifted, 
Left the substantial useful base 
Just where they found it — on its place. 
At length I heave with careful hand, 
The pennypieces from their stand ; 
These all the others upwards bore, 
To stations higher than before ; 
Yet each retain' d its proper place, 
The pile its strength — the cone its grace. 

A sudden thought ilium' d my skull, 
Where all before was vastly dull ; 
It shot like bright electric spark, 
Which shews the plainest in the dark. 
My sluggish wits, now all alive, 
Bestir them, like a swarm i' th' hive ; 
They shewed me in this heap of pelf, 
An emblem of the world itself, 
In which are various stations known, 
Up from the Workhouse to the Throne. 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 75 

The poor, the useful base supply, 
On which ascends the structure high ; 
The middle ranks ; the squire, the peer, 
Hence, step by step, their heads uprear ; 
Nay, — the great monarch on the top, 
Should the base fail him, down must drop. 
Each rank is needful in its place, 
For strength, for symmetry, and grace ; 
And each its place would still retain, 
Were the base raised as high again. 

In 1818, the demise of three clergymen in Sheffield 
brought almost simultaneously to the occupancy of the vacant 
places the same number of ministers of the Gospel, selected 
by the Vicar from the ranks of the Evangelical clergy, of the 
names of Cotterill, Yale, aud Best. Mr. Roberts soon met 
them in social intercourse, was pleased with all, and the fol- 
lowing playful lines were the result : — 

Erom courts and camps Religion fled, 

Of pomp and carnage tired ; 
Some peaceful home to rest her head 

The fugitive desired. 

To tempt her stay, with right good will. 

Three candidates assail : 
The first the pleasant Cotter Hill, 

The next the humble Vale. 

Near them a little mansion stood, 

Of many a charm possessed, 
Whose aspect, smiling, warm and good, 

Proclaimed that this was Best. 



70 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

Perplexed, Religion could not tell 

Which ought her choice to be; 
She felt disposed with each to dwell, 

So fixed on all the three. 

Ere long, the advent of one of these strangers proved the 
occasion of the exercise of his pen in another manner. 

The Rev. Thomas Best, when first, after his arrival, the 
Sheffield Theatre was opened for the winter season, com- 
menced the practice (still continued) of preaching an annual 
sermon on the dangerous tendency of theatrical amusements, 
Mr. Roberts did not, in every point of view, approve of this. 
He felt by no means sure of its having no tendency to 
increase the evil it was meant to check ; and, while he could 
go all lengths with the preacher in reprobation of theatrical 
performances, he reserved the judgment of charity for those 
who might occasionally frecment them. Yet was he, never- 
theless, by the appearance of some strictures of Robert 
Mansell, Esq., the manager, immediately called out in de- 
fence of Mr. Best. The pamphlet which he published on 
this occasion is the first which occurs of his since numerous 
publications on local subjects of general interest ; also the 
first specimen of his tact in answering an opponent, (though 
in this case not his own opponent but another's,) spoken of 
by himself as his forte.* On both of these grounds some 
extracts from it claim insertion here. 

* See Autobiography, page 32. 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 77 

FACTS, BUT NOT COMMENTS; BEING STRICTURES ON THE 
STAGE. 

In a Letter to Robert Mansell Esq., on his attempt to represent the 
Saviour of the World as an Approver of Theatrical Exhibitions. 

by a layman. 
Sir, 

Your uncalled for, indecorous, and illiberal attack 
on a Clergyman of the Churcli of England, (to whom " you 
give every credit for acting under an impression of a 
conscientious discharge of his duty") for having in his 
own church warned his flock against what he conceived to 
be folly and wickedness, demands a greater degree of seve- 
rity than I am either qualified or disposed to dispense. * * 

* * * Had you, sir, not forsaken the line of your 
profession, to insult a minister of religion, and to vilify 
Christianity itself, it is not probable that you would ever 
have had me for a public opponent. You say, sir, (for you 
have chosen it for your motto,) that you must have "facts, 
but not comments." Be it so, then, though you have not 
yourself set the example. 

It is a fact, then, sir, that theatrical representations are, 
in their nature, and their effects throughout, opposed to 
purity of heart and life ; a fact which, I trust, will, before I 
conclude, be made clearly manifest. * * * 

* -x- * With unblushing confidence and impiety you 
exclaim, " Answer me ! Why did our Saviour, in daily 
passing the theatre at Jerusalem, remain silent upon the 
subject ? Why, with his prescience, did he not know that 
there was an agent in existence teeming with future evils ; 
and, knowing it, why did he not condemn it ? Satisfy my 
reason, and I will bow with all proper respect to your autho- 



78 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

rity \" Now, sir, 1 really do not know that it is possible to 
suiist'v your reason upon this occasion: I will, however, try 
what can be done. 

In the first place, then, give me leave to ask you a ques- 
tion. Do you know that there were licensed theatres for 
stage-players in Jerusalem at that time ? Do you in your 
conscience believe that our Blessed Saviour really meant to 
sanction every legalised institution, which he did not, in 
direct terais, condemn ? 

* ■* ■# There were among the people who then ruled 
at Jerusalem, legalised exhibitions of wild beasts, devouring 
not only each other, but human beings : nay, there were 
legalised combats of man against his fellow-man, in which 
murders were legally perpetrated for the amusement of 
human beings.* Do you mean to assert, sir, because our 
Blessed Saviour does not, in express terms, forbid them, 
that, therefore, he approved of them ? * * * 

* ■* * Qui* Blessed Saviour taught and shewed us 
our duty by precept and example ; if, then, you cannot find 
any one of the former sanctioning, directly or indirectly, 
theatrical representations, or any one instance of his being 
present at them, every impartial man must conclude that he 
did not approve of them. 

¥t ■* * j mus t^ sir, before we part, beg leave to have 
a word or two with your Worksop correspondent, A. H.,t 
who has taken so much trouble to enlighten us at this great 
distance. He is of opinion that the moral tendency of 

* Tor such purposes, iu all probability, was the theatre men- 
tioned by Josephus, as being opened at Jerusalem by Herod, and 
which, it seems, was the only one there. 

f Suspected to be the signature of a Roman Catholic gentleman. 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 79 

Plays can only be questioned by " the most ignorant 
fanatics^ or persons who have taken leave of all honest 
principle or rational intellect.'" He talks of the " irra- 
tional and declamatory rhapsodies of the Rev. Thomas 
Best" He thinks that it is indecent to condemn that 
which is " approved by the heads of the Church." Now, 
sir, I really do not know who the heads of the Church are,, 
to whom A. H. alludes ; certainly not the great head of the 
Eoman Catholic Church, for he (and I conclude that A. H. 
will allow him to be infallible) would not admit (without a 
special dispensation from him to make them such) players to 
be. Christians ! The consequence was, that in Prance -and 
some other Catholic countries, the dead bodies of players 
were refused interment in consecrated ground. This, I dare 
say, A. H. well knows; and, to him, I shoidd think it must 
speak volumes. Surely, he who preaches up unlimited love 
and charity, as A. H. does, even extending it to the sparing 
and encouraging of vice and immorality, should not be an 
advocate for a practice winch, on infallible authority, un- 
christianizes all who engage in it ! To do tins he must 
have taken leave of "all honest principle and rational 
intellect." 

The head of the Catholic church, in the instance of the 
dispensation alluded to, seems to have set an example of 
consistency, which has been followed by our legislators. 
By our laws, players of interludes are declared to be vagrants 
and incorrigible rogues and vagabonds ; their performances 
are consequently illegal ; and they themselves are liable to 
be flogged and passed to their settlements. Notwithstanding 
tins, licenses seem to be granted to particular companies of 
them, which at least tolerate their performances. Now, 



80 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AN!> 

whether this license possesses the power of transmuting, at 
once, all such as they are firsl declared to be into orderly 
subjects and honest men; or whether it leaves them, in 
those respects, as it found them, 1 presume, sir, that you 
will be best able to determine. Such, however, is the fact ; 
and facts are what you require, and what I promised to 
furnish you with. At parting, then, sir, it may not be 
amiss to enumerate most of those which have been brought 
forward. 

In the first place, then, it is a fact that your attack on 
the minister of St. James's, for " conscientiously discharg- 
ing" as you admit, " his duty," was highly indecorous and 
reprehensible. It is a fact that you have by no means suc- 
ceeded in proving that, during the time Jesus Christ taught 
at Jerusalem, there were theatres in that city for the acting 
of stage plays ; your attempt, therefore, to represent the 
Saviour of the world as an approver of theatrical perfor- 
mances, is not only impious, but devoid even of the shadow 
of a foundation. It is ufact, that players take a great deal 
of money out of the town, and cause a great deal more to be 
spent in dissipation, without leaving anything in return, but 
greater depravity and misery. It is a fact, too, that they 
are the cause of much base money being coined, brought, 
and circulated amongst us. It is a fact, that licenses from 
government cannot turn vice into virtue, nor render that 
beneficial which is in its nature pernicious. It is a fact, 
that many things are considered as amusements which are 
at variance with the laws of God. It is a fact, that many 
species of amusements, which were formerly generally ap- 
proved and practised, are now universally condemned and 
discarded: and it its likewise a fact, that others which are 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 81 

now allowed will hereafter in like manner be condemned. 
It is a fact, that even contributing to the support of the 
widow and the orphan cannot justify the employment of 
vitiating means. 

~ It is a fact, that man is by nature, in many respects, 
more savage and blood-thirsty than the wild beast of the 
forest ; and that he requires a check, which Christianity alone 
can effectually supply, to compel him to love his neighbour 
as himself, and to do to others as he would have others do 
to him. It is a fact, that theatrical performances, directly 
or indirectly, retard man's advancement in Christianity. It 
is a fact, that players themselves are, more generally than 
almost any other class, depraved characters ; and this fact is 
proved by their own representations. It is a fact, that 
plays, and particularly interludes and farces, are often inde- 
cent, irreligious, and immoral in their tendency. It is a 
fact, that the majority of those among the lower classes who 
go to them, are rude and disorderly characters. It is a, fact, 
that drinking is frequently practised at the theatres, and 
that lewdness and violent uproars greatly prevail, to the 
serious annoyance of the more orderly part of the audience. 
It is a fact, that the vicinities of the theatres are the most 
depraved and miserable parts of the metropolis. 

It is a fact, that by our laws players are recognised and 
denounced as vagrants, and incorrigible rogues and vaga- 
bonds ; and that in Prance, and other Eoman Catholic 
countries, they are not, or were not, allowed to be Christians, 
and were consequently refused Christian burial. It is &fact, 
that an association of respectable and disinterested gentle- 
men here, professing to encourage theatrical performances, 
E 2 



OZ AUTOBIOGRAPHY AXD 

is fraught with incalculable evil to the best interests of the 
town, and particularly to the youthful part of the lower 
orders. It is a fact, that you, sir, on recently closing the 
Theatre for the season, in addressing the audience, made use 
of the following words : — " I have now to congratulate 
myself upon witnessing the triumph of liberality, good sense, 
and independence of mind, over the narrow contracted 
views of bigotry and fanaticism" 

It is likewise a fact, that the editor of the Sheffiield 
Mercury, in alluding to that occurrence, affords us the 
pleasing information, that "the sum paid by the public 
in four nights, amounts to about Jive hundred pounds" 

It is a fact, that the poor rates, high as they have been 
for some time past, are now daily becoming higher, many 
industrious men being every week turned out of employ- 
ment. It is a fact, that the players being in the town, 
always contributes greatly to increase the rates, by encourag- 
ing idleness, youthful depravity, and extravagance. 

If, then, what you call bigotry and fanaticism could, 
notwithstanding your exertions, and the patronage of the 
Shakspere Club, have succeeded in keeping at home a few 
of the many thousand pounds paid by the public to purchase 
depravity and wickedness, — it is a /act, that no great harm 
would have thereby been done. 

Now, sir, after having thus stated all these facts (I believe 
incontrovertible facts), I think I may venture to call upon 
you to declare whether your reason is not convinced, both 
that the performances of theatrical representations are at- 
tended with evil consequences; and also, that our Blessed 
Saviour did not, either directly or indirectly, sanction or 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 83 

approve of them. If it be not, neither would you be per- 
suaded, it is probable, though one rose from the dead to 
assure you of these facts. 

* * * Had you, when you saw the honest indus- 
trious husbandman diligently sowing the good seed in the 
field, contented yourself with casting in a few seeds of your 
tares, as it were by stealth, amongst it, and by night, I sus- 
pect that you might have done it with impunity ; but when 
the enemy dared to take the good man by the shoulders, and 
attempt, in broad daylight, to turn him out of his own field, 
that he himself might fill the soil with the seed of noxious 
weeds, it became high time that every one who was to eat 
of, and live by, the bread which was to be made of the 
produce, should arouse himself, and assist the husbandman 
in keeping his place, and in following, undisturbed, his 
useful labour. Do not suppose, sir, as is too commonly 
done, that, because you are not a proud Pharisee, you are, 
therefore, a humble publican. The publican, in the parable, 
did not even presume to assert that his neighbour's preten- 
sions to superior righteousness were ill founded ; he felt that 
he himself was a sinner, and he therefore dared not even so 
much as lift up his eyes unto heaven, but only smote upon 
his breast, and prayed for mercy on himself for his trans- 
gressions. He had no particular reason to believe that the 
Pharisee had " conscientiously discharged his duty ;" but 
yet he did not accuse him of bigotry and fanaticism. He 
did not go down to his house justified because he was a 
publican, but because he was a humbled and penitent 
publican. 

Far be it from me, sir, to assert, that all who go to plays, 
are therefore excluded from the kingdom of Heaven. Tar 



b-I U M > 1. 1 1 ' ( . K A 1 ' 1 1 Y AND 

lje it from me to maintain, that either they, <>r the players 
themselves, cannot be Christians; I presume not to narrow 
tin gate of hra, in ; but, alter what has been shown of the 
nature and effects of theatrical representations, fool-hardy 
indeed must be the man who is really anxious to secure for 
himself a crown of glory, and yet shall dare to take his 
road, without necessity, through such dangers and diffi- 
culties. 

-::- * * lam far from being without hope that God 
may, by these means, bring you to a knowledge of that 
truth, as it is in Christ Jesus. You evidently do not con- 
sider Christianity as "a cunningly devised fable." You 
appeal to the Christian Scriptures, and to the Divine 
Founder of Christianity, as authorities. You must, then, 
believe that Jesus Christ is the person whom the Scriptures 
represent Him to be; that there is a future state of rewards 
and punishment, and that a religious life is essential to the 
attainment of the former. Religion, therefore, is some- 
thing. Now, religion once admitted to be something, there 
can be no stopping without admitting it to be everything ; 
that is, nothing else can be vitally important, but as it 
affects, or is affected by, religion. 

In your assumed characters on the stage, sir, you exert 
yourself with all your powers of mind and body to fill the 
part in the best possible manner. Whether the character be 
that of a despotic monarch, or a trembling slave — whether 
it be that of a rich miser, or a poor spendthrift — is but of 
little importance; but it is of the utmost consequence, how 
you sustain it. Why is the manner in which you sustain it 
so important? Not because it procures you the temporary 
applause of the audience! You fret, or strut, or storm, 



SELECT REMAINS OP SAMUEL ROBERTS. 85 

or cringe, a few short hours, whilst the clap, or the hiss 
is but for as many moments, and the curtain drops. 

It cannot, then, be all for this that yon are anxious. No, 
sir, it is not for this; but after this you have to live — 
perhaps long to live; and this affects, or may affect, the 
whole of your life to come. Your fame, your affluence, 
your character, your happiness in the world, may all be 
marred or made by the manner in which you acted the 
short-lived character upon the stage, and therefore it was 
that you strove with all your might to fill the part so well. 

What would you, sir, think of an actor who should have 
a serious and important character assigned him to perform 
for a single night, at one of the great theatres in the metro- 
polis, as a trial of his abilities, who should not only fail to 
embrace the opportunity of establishing his fame, and 
securing his fortune, but should, by his misconduct on that 
night, ruin his reputation and himself for ever. If he 
should be so mad as not only to do nothing but play his wild 
pranks (which were quite out of character) upon the stage 
— but strive also to put every other performer out, and 
endeavour to make them as bad as himself, merely that he 
might enjoy himself, as he would call it, for a single hour — 
would you, sir, hesitate to call such a man infatuated ? Yet 
such, sir, is the conduct of him who, believing that he has 
but a few years to remain in this world, and that he has an 
eternity to spend in another — an eternity which will be 
happy or miserable according to the manner in which he 
fills his part during the short period of his remaining here, 
neglects to improve tins opportunity of securing everlasting 
happiness. 

* * * Whatever may be the effects of attending 



SG AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

theatrical exhibitions to 1 lie higher orders of society, to the 
lower 1 1 n ■ \ nrasl be, and are, almost inevitably, ruinous. 
Perhaps there is not in the world so compact and concen- 
trated a mass of human depravity (and I might add misery) 
to be found as in the one-shilling gallery of the large 
theatres, when any piece of low and indecent buffoonery is to 
be performed. Satan certainly has not on earth another 
" agent so teeming with future evils" The very lowest, 
foulest dregs of fermenting grossness and vice, are there 
working in tumultuous ebullition. It is not a little leaven 
leavening the whole lump, but it is a mass of corrupting 
leaven rendering itself still worse, with little that is better to 
prey upon. 

■*■*■* On the lower classes the higher are built. 
They must stand and fall together ; at any rate, if the former 
fail, the latter cannot keep their places. If you sap or 
corrupt the foundation, the superstructure must be endan- 
gered. Of the lower classes is the foundation of society 
formed. Here, then, in the theatres, is engendered the dry- 
rot, which, penetrating to the heart of the English oak that 
supports the state, destroys its very nature, and renders it 
not only useless, but highly insecure and dangerous. 

* * * If in any part of tins letter I should appear to 
have treated you, sir, uncourteously, let it be attributed to 
the importance of the subject : I felt warmly, and when that 
is the case, the language will necessarily in some degree 
partake of the nature of the feelings. I certainly have not 
experienced any want of Christian charity towards you, per- 
sonally ; nor did I wish to be your public opponent ; but 
having once entered the lists, I was bound to exert my best 
endeavours in the cause. Your abilities are certainly not 



SELECT REMAIICS OF SAMUEL KOBEKTS. 87 

common ones ; your conduct, as far as I have heard, in the 
line of your profession, is respectable and honourable ; nay, 
you may, for anything that I know to the contrary, like 
St. Paul, before his conversion, " verily, think that you are 
doing God service " nor is it impossible but that should 
you, like him, be brought to a clear knowledge of the 
truth, you may become a faithful and active servant of your 
divine Lord and Master. — That such may be the case, is the 
sincere desire of, Sir, 

Your sincere well wisher, and obedient servant, 

A Layman. 
Sheffield, Jan. 4, 1848. 

Some years after the date of this letter to Mr. Mansell, a 
player, who, with his wife and children, reduced to extreme 
destitution, was then at Sheffield, called at the house of 
Mr. Koberts to solicit his assistance, described his misery, 
expressed his weariness and disgust at his profession, and 
his unalterable resolution to exchange it for one more 
respectable if he could acquire the means. His application 
was well directed ; he was listened to with the charity winch 
hopeth all things. Mr. Roberts, on investigation, became 
highly interested in Iris case ; raised a subscription in his 
private circle to some amount, gave him ample aid himself, 
and saw him set forth to recommence life as a respectable 
character : he was heard of again, but it was after the lapse 
of a year or two, and through the channel of the newspapers, 
he being then figuring as a very popular performer at the 
London theatres. 

The introduction in this place of the following sportive 
contribution to a lady's album may serve to enliven and 



s ^ A\ rOBIOGB U'UY AND 

diversify the character of these selections. It will be 
obvious to the reader fchal il was not written for publica- 
tion; but ii is Illustrative of the playfulness of the mind and 
character of the writer, for which reason (the object of this 
work being to present a picture of that mind and character, 
not by studied detail, but by extracts from his writings), it 
is well adapted for insertion here. It was offered in the 
name of a lady unaccustomed to the use of the pencil. 

JENNY WREN'S CONTRIBUTION TO THE " OLIO." 

A swallow, which, beneath a shed 

In had been hatched and bred, 

When wintfry winds were heard to blow, 
Began to think 'twas time to go 
To southern climes, — so with her mate, 
(A fine plump bird,) did emigrate. 
Arrived, they build, they bill and coo, 
And young ones hatch, but only two. 
When clucks had eat up all the mire 
Of southern clime, they 'gan to tire : 
Besides they long'd to see their cousins, 

Who sing in 's shades by dozens. 

Young Master Swallow, too, and Miss, 
They wish'd those cousins all to kiss. 
— They were, indeed, two prodigies 
At twittering loud and catching flies. 
So off they flew, and soon they rest, 
Beneath the thatch, in clay-built nest. 
The joyful tidings quickly spread 
Prom bush to tree, from grove to shed : 



SELECT EEMAINS OE SAMUEL ROBERTS. 89 

Around them numerous warblers throng, 
And all is flutter, joy, and song. 
The summer months flew quick away 
In concerts, visits, love, and play ; 
On wings more swift than theirs, Old Time 
Soon came to drive from Northern clime. 
But first through grove and lawn they flew, 
To bid each well-loved cos. adieu : 
Of each did Mrs. Swallow crave 
A keepsake feather first to have, 
With which she meant, when far away, 
A plume to form, which might display, 
To Southern winged belles and beaux, 

What varied plumage shows ; 

And might, beside, to mind recall, 
Each dear relation, great and small. 
With this request they all comply, 
And feathers bring of every dye : — 
All but one little mateless lien, 
The modest, timid, Jenny Wren. 
In vain, she said, she'd tried to find ; 
One feather that was fit to bind 
With plumes so gay ; they'd but disgrace 
Her cousin's kin and native place. 
But if a simple lay would please, 
Proclaimed in humble strains like these, 
She'd do the best she could to shew 
Her love sincere, — in this Adieu ! 

In the year 1819, commercial embarrassments had created 



90 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

much distress, of which the self-interested enemies of reli- 
gion and order wer< taking advantage. At Main 
alarming riots had occurred, the military being called in, 
and some lives in consequence sacrificed. On this occasion 
was convened a meeting at Sheffield, presided over by a 
gentleman venerable Troin age, and occupying the first rank 
among the inhabitants; to him Mr. Roberts then addressed 
a letter, whence are extracted the following passages, in- 
troduced here in evidence of his argumentative power : — 



LETTER TO THE CHAIRMAN OF THE PUBLIC MEETING 

Held at Sheffield, October 25, 1S19, on the Subject of the Pro- 
ceedings at Manchester, August 16. 

* * * To assemble to delate on political measures, it 
was not necessary, in addition to the twenty thousand that 
might have been brought together at Manchester, to pro- 
cure as many more from various distant places. Twenty 
thousand are as many as can be supposed necessary to 
preserve calm discussion ; indeed, almost as many as can 
hear what is said. It was not, therefore, indispensable that, 
to promote calm discussion, the people in those distant 
places should first learn military discipline and manoeuvres, 
nor that they should provide themselves with arms and 
banners, displaying excitements to vengeance, blood, and 
murder. Above all, it was not necessary that females 
should be induced to take an active part with them in 
these attempts to reform Christianity and the laws of the 
land, much less that they should be taken from their 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 91 

parents, and husbands, and children, and associated night 
and day with men of the most abandoned character, — men 
who had professedly thrown off the restraints which Chris- 
tianity furnishes : neither was it necessary that a deliberative 
body, called together for calm investigation, should, in 
assembling, be preceded by bands of music, and singing 
men and singing women. 

Now, sir, I appeal to yourself, if any impartial, unbiassed 
man, after knowing these things, would hesitate to affirm 
that this multitude, so assembled, could not be intended for 
calm deliberation ; — nay, I appeal to you, if any such man 
would hesitate in declaring that it was intended to intimi- 
date, if not to molest, the peaceable loyal inhabitants. The 
people had been warned, more than a fortnight before, that 
their so assembling would be an unlawful meeting, and that 
they must be dispersed if they attempted it ; in consequence 
of which warning, the first called meeting was postponed ; 
yet they afterwards, in the face of such warning, did so 
assemble. Still, sir, it may be said that they proceeded to 
no open acts of violence; no, sir, if they had, thousands 
might, and probably would, have been sacrificed on both 
sides. Had Guy Fawkes proceeded to any act of open 
violence, when he was arrested in his supposed intended 
attempt to blow up the assembled parliament of the 
kingdom ? No, he had not. The conspirators had hired a 
cellar under the parliament-house — there was nothing 
criminal in that; they had made it a repository of com- 
bustible materials— nothing unlawful there; they had in- 
troduced barrels of gunpowder — very well, they must put 
them somewhere ; and what then ? Why, Guy Fawkes was 



92 .\i TOBIOGRAPH? AND 

going in among them with a dark lantern in his hand; and 
was it not prudent in him to do so, if he had occasion to go 
there? Would you have had him take a lighted naked 
candle in his hand ? He had not set fire to the powder, 
though the train was laid ; surely, then, he was prematurely 
taken into custody, and every one who suffered for the 
supposed intended explosion was a murdered man ! But, 
sir, would you seriously have advised waiting till the explo- 
sion had actually taken place ? Just so wise would it have 
been for the Manchester magistrates to have stood by 
neuter, watching such an immense multitude, assembled hy 
such men, by such means, and so organised and prepared 
for the most destructive measures. Every good man does 
most sincerely lament the consequence of the orders given 
to disperse them. That the magistrates were to blame, 
there does not appear even a shadow of proof to establish. 
On the contrary, the evidence of many impartial men, who 
enjoyed good opportunities of knowing the truth, serves to 
show the contrary : most of the accusations of them came 
from bad and interested men; many of those accusations, 
as far as it has yet been possible to examine them, are 
found to be most base and false. 

I need not tell you, sir, I am sure, that the office of 
magistrate, though highly honourable, is at all times exceed- 
ingly troublesome, often unpleasant, and sometimes dan- 
gerous. Yet all these things do our public-spirited gentle- 
men brave gratuitously. I will venture to say, that, as a 
body, there is not one equal to it in the world for respecta- 
bility, independence, sound sense, and prudent conduct. 
Now, is it possible, sir — I appeal to yourself as a magistrate. 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 93 

— is it possible to suppose that a dozen such men could be 
assembled in any part of the kingdom, with full time given 
for due consideration, who would, collectively, give such 
orders, or proceed to such acts, as warrant, much less 
demand, the unprecedented clamorous proceedings against 
them, which have been resorted to in almost all parts of the 
kingdom? * * * 

* * * Of the danger of assembling mobs, you, sir, 
as a magistrate, cannot be insensible; the little power 
which even the nobles of the land, which the Lord Lieu- 
tenant of the Eiding himself, can possess over them, even 
when joined with them, is evident from the impossibility which 
they found to gain a fair hearing from them for their own 
county member at York. But, sir, you have, in your time, 
had stronger evidence of the madness of a mob than the 
instance alluded to. From the house where you now reside 
you once saw, or you might have seen, the premises and the 
property of, perhaps, the best friend the poor and the town 
of Sheffield ever had, flaming up to heaven as an accusing 
witness against the sin of ingratitude, and enlightening the 
midnight darkness so as to expose the agents of the 
diabolical act to notice and final conviction : so true it is, 
that "the wicked shall be entrapped in the work of his own 
hand." The venerable minister of the Gospel — the patient, 
the mild, the indefatigable magistrate — the esteemed of the 
rich and the revered of the poor, laden with age and infir- 
mities, — was a wandering fugitive, directed over his own 
grounds by the flames of his own property, to seek an 
asylum among strangers, from the rage of those to serve 
whom he had laboured almost half a century, as the head of 
their church, and of their bench. This venerable Christian 



9 1 fOBIOGRAPHY AND 

minister and magistrate, sir, was, 1 believe, your early 
friend, and you could aol bul highly esteem him. Yd all 

his services were insufficient to protect his property from the 
violence of an infuriated mob, notwithstanding that he was, 
what 1 presume you yourself profess to be, a moderate Whig. 
In this instance the military had proceeded to no violence, 
neither had they done so in the preceding Riots in London 
in 1780, when the metropolis was in flames in almost 
twenty places. In these, and many other instances, the 
magistrates were censured for not ordering the military to 
disperse the mob in time. * * * 

[A " Defence of the Poor Laws/' in a pamphlet of large 
size, was published by Mr. Eoberts, this year, 1819]. 

The connection of the History of Mary Queen of Scots 
with a vicinity which he regarded with poetical enthusiasm, 
— that of the neighbourhood in which he was born, — was, 
doubtless, the cause by which Mr. E. was led, in the first 
instance, to contemplate the fate and character of the ill- 
fated captive with an especial interest, and at length to 
institute an investigation into the historical evidence of her 
guilt or innocence, which finally produced, in his own mind, 
a full conviction that the imputation of crime had been un- 
justly attached to her memory. The result of that investi- 
gation, accompanied by Epistles in verse, supposed to be 
written by the unfortunate Queen (in which he availed 
himself of the aid of a member of his family), he gave to 
the public in two volumes, published in 1822. So far as 
they had any circulation, the historical part appeai-s to have 
been well received, and highly appreciated by those who 
coidd best judge of its merit. His plan in the other part 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 95 

of the work was to prepare an Epistle in prose, which was 
to be put into verse for him, with unlimited license of addi- 
tions, omissions, and alterations, after which they again 
passed through his hands, and the same license was Ms. 
There was nothing in the volume bond Jide the production 
of the other party, except the " Introductory Lines," and 
a piece entitled " Death." The Epistle in which his ori- 
ginal prose was rendered most to the letter is the following. 



Letter VII. 

THE MOUNTAIN'S BROW. 

When smiled in peace the Sabbath morn, 

By holy aspiration borne, 

Earth and its cares I left below, 

And wander' d to the mountain's brow. 

The Earth beneath diminished lay ; 

The Heavens expanded stretched away ; — 

Beside me, in their earliest dress, 

The mountain birch hung motionless ; 

Tinged with a shade of loveliest grey, 

The silver clouds unsailing lay : 

Between their folds the sun-beams bright 

Cast on the verdure isles of light, 

Around whose edge a purple shade, 

Their brilliant beauty brighter made. 

All Nature shar'd the sacred rest 

Of this, the day that God had bless' cl ; 

Save where the lark's mellifluous song 

Floated the distant clouds among ; — 



96 Al K>M<h.;;.\1']IY AND 

If sucli it were, — I rather deemed, 

So pure, so sweet, the cadence seemed, 

An angel to our earthly sphere, 

On this blest day, allowed more near, 

Midway in air, reposed to raise 

His matins of celestial praise : 

The streams no more were seen to How, 

The vocal woods were silent now, 

The stately vills, the lofty halls, 

The lowly shepherd's whitewashed walls ; 

The mouldering abbey's sacred gloom, 

The mighty castle's lordly dome ; 

The town, that faint in distance peer'd, 

Alike deserted all appeared. 

Survivor of a perish'd race, 

I seem'd in loneliness to stand, 

Sole tenant of that mighty space, 

The Temple of Jehovah's hand ; 

He laid, he deck'd the en am ell' d floor, 

The vaulted dome His power upbore. 

On that high stand, alone with God, 

Earth's nearest step to heaven, I trod; 

Above, below the sacred ground, 

Within, without me, and around, 

The Godhead manifested dwelt; 

His power was seen, his goodness felt ; 

The pomps, the gaieties of life, 

Its empty hopes, its fruitless strife, 

Its vanities, its cares were lost, 

And love alone my soul engrossed ; 



SELECT EEMAINS OE SAMUEL ROBERTS. 97 

My heart with holy rapture burned, 

While rapt in thought my spirit turned, 

The wonders of that spot to trace, — 

And oh ! methought "'twas an awful place. 

For it was on a mountain's brow, 

When the windows of heaven on high, 

And the founts of the deep below, 
Were ordained unclosed to lie : — 

When for forty days and nights 

Had the rains the earth assailed, 
And up to exceeding heights 

The mighty floods prevailed : — 

When covered the hills by that tide, 

With the wrath of Jehovah rife, 
And all were dead beside, 

In whom was the breath of life : — 

One single living soul 

Climbed over the mighty flood, 
Beyond its dire controul, 

And alone the victim stood : — 

Hope fled, which, since man had birth, 

No power before could chase; 
The trembler sought it on earth ; 

But with life it had left the place. 

His eye to heaven he raised, — 

God's wrath denied it there ; 
Within the mourner gazed, — 

It was quenched by guilt and fear : 



AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

He cast his glance around, — 

In the dark it still reposed ; 
But it nowhere else was found, 

And the ark to hirn was closed ! 

Oh, lot of nameless misery ! 

Selected for the last to die ; 

As on the King of Terrors sped, 

Condemned to see his gradual tread ; 

To feel, through every stiffening limb, 

His icy arms surrounding him, 

As, rising slow, with long delay, 

They wound around their helpless prey. 

Amid the pouring rain, the gathering ilood, 

The statue of despair the sinner stood, 

Till o'er his head the rising waters closed, 

And from Iris work of wrath the avenging Lord reposed. 

It was on a mountain's brow 

That the olive of peace was found ; 
It was on a mountain's brow 

That the ark first touched the ground. 

There Noah Iris altar built, 

And the sins of his race confessed ; 
The sweet savour of penitent guilt 

Arose from the mountain's crest. 

There the Lord did his word convey, 

That till earth's foundations fail, 
Should seed-time, night and day, 

And heat and cold, prevail. 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 99 

It was from a mountain's brow 

That Noah beheld increase 
From the north to the south, the bow, 

The ark of the covenant of peace. 

It was there, in triumphant faith, 

The patriarch stretched his hand; 
And there was his offspring's death 

Forbidden by God's command. 

It was to Mount Sinai's height, 

In thunder, in storm, and in flame, 
"While earth quaked, and Heaven streamed with light, 

That the Eternal Jehovah came. 

It was thence that the law was sent, 

By the voice of the present Lord ; 
It was there to his servant was lent 

The page of the written word. 

On Mount Carmel the prophet stood, 

When he saw the shadowing hand, 
Fraught with the refreshing flood, 

That watered the parched land. 

And it was in a mountain's brow 

That the Lord of life and light, 
While he sojourned here below, 

Did ever the most delight. 

It was on a mountain's crest, 

Withdrawn from a world of strife, 
He first to his followers addressed 

The words of eternal life. 



100 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

To a mountain's brow he came, 
Retiring apart for prayer ; 

To a mountain the blind and lame 

Were brought, and he healed them there. 

It was on the mountain's height, 

When glory around Him shone, 
"When His garments were white as the light, 

And His face did shine as the sun. 

When they fell to the earth that beheld, 

The veil was drawn aside, 
And unearthly commune He held 

With spirits beatified. 

It was on Calvary's Mount 

That His precious blood did flow ; 
'Tis the stream from that holy fount 

That cleanseth all below. 

And it was on a mountain's brow, 

Retired with his chosen band, 
That He rose from the earth below, 

To the throne at God's right hand. 

Oh ! then, if than all the rest, 

One place upon earth we know 
More favoured, more holy, more blest, 

That place is the mountain's brow. 

If these Hues have any merit, it is entirely his. 

Of his very numerous publications on the subject of 



SELECT REMAINS OE SAMUEL ROBERTS. 101 

Slavery, that from which the following passage is extracted, 
which is dated 1823, was probably the first. 

A LETTER TO JOHN BULL. 

With the Sketch of a Plan for the safe, speedy, and effectual Aboli- 
tion of Slavery. 
BY A FREE-BORN ENGLISHMAN. 

I am afraid, John, that with all thy boasted independence, 
thou art not quite independent of prejudice. A leaning, 
John, if there must be one, should always be towards the 
side of the weakest and the poorest. Strength and riches 
will generally be able to procure advocates, and have their 
right maintained. This is a lesson which I should have 
thought thou, John, wouldst have learnt long ago. This 
lesson, however, it does appear thou hast still to acquire, 
otherwise thou wouldst not talk, as thou dost, of the 
" injustice of violating the sacred right of property,''' by 
emancipating the negroes from a state of bondage, into 
which they have been thrown by fraud, violence, and inhu- 
manity. Gracious heavens, John ! what a revolting perver- 
sion of solemn words ! The sacred right of a murderer to 
the carcase of his victim ! of the plunderer to the property 
which he has stolen from the unresisting stranger who never 
offended him ! John, John, this is not calling things by 
their " right names !" No, John, this is, for the basest of 
all purposes, calling black white ; this is worse than standing- 
over the wolf to defend him from the vengeance of the shep- 
herd, while he devours the lamb which he has stolen from 
his flock. "And Nathan said unto David, Thou art the man." 
So say I to thee, John, and to every one who dares to oppose 



102 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

the restoration of the slave to his freedom, u Thou art the 
many 

John, if the West India Islands cannot be preserved but 
by the continuance of slavery, by the violation of the claims 
of humanity, and of the declared will of God, then perish 
the West India Islands, as far as relates to Great Britain. 
She is, in that case, better •without them. But we are 
reduced to no such alarming alternative. Try the experiment : 
it may be tried immediately, effectually, without much of 
cither risk or expense. What, John, art thou become timid ? 
art thou an advocate for half-measures ? art thou deterred 
from doing right by timidity ? John, John, look well, man, 
into thy heart ; it is not fear that deters thee, in this in- 
stance, from advocating the cause of justice. The heart, 
John, is deceitful beyond all things. Fear, John, is not of 
English growth. When has Britain shown (necessity calling 
for her energies,) that she feared ? Did she fear, when the 
tyrant of the world had been enabled to arm that world 
against her liberty, against her existence ? No, John, she 
did not then fear ; she buckled on her armour closer : she 
looked to her God for assistance ; she relied on Him, and 
on the justice of her cause; she rushed into the contest un- 
dismayed ; she fought, — she conquered ! Shall she now, 
then, fear to do that which she knows her Almighty De- 
fender demands of her ? Shall she shrink, with affected 
fears, from doing right, from doing justice? No, John; 
Britain has no fear; she affects none. Her 'rulers talk 
about it, she knows it not. Witness the voice of her people, 
declared in mountains of parchment lying at her feet, ami 
before the eyes of those who seek to paralyze her efforts, by 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 103 

raising up phantoms, which would, in an instant, vanish 
before the piercing ray of truth. 

We are told, that we must not dare even to talk about 
having justice done to the poor traveller who has fallen 
among thieves, who have stripped, wounded, and half killed 
him. No, no ; we may look upon him, if we please, but we 
must pass by on the other side. No pouring in of wine and 
oil, no binding up of wounds, no setting Mm upon our own 
beast, no taking care of him : no, John, no ; he is not our 
neighbour ! he is a poor, harmless, helpless negro ; torn by 
Christian hands, from his black wife and children, from 
his distant African home. He is no neighbour of ours : we 
are rich, and great, and powerful ; his very touch, his very 
breath, would contaminate us. Besides, the man who has 
robbed and half murdered him, is indeed our neighbour ; he 
is our fellow townsman ; he is our friend ; he is of the same 
colour with ourselves ; he is a man qualified to ride on white 
asses ; he is a man of influence, a man of substance, and 
shall not we respect the "sacred right of property" of 
such a man as this ? What ! shall we ruin him, by taking 
away from him that property which he has stolen, and of which 
he, till then, stood so much in need ? Would not this be 
cruel? Would not this be unjust ? Well, John, truly "the 
children of this world are in their generation wiser than the 
children of light/' The saints, the quacks, and the hum- 
bugs, John, would never, I will venture to say, either have 
discovered, or duly appreciated, this sacred right of property 
of the robber, or the receiver of stolen property, knowing it 
to be stolen : they, poor ignorant souls, would only have 
thought of having the property restored to the original 



101 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

* * * Well, John, after all, I certainly do not 

the consequence of either talkingor writing about them; on 
the contrary, I feel assured that at length some good may 
arise from so doing, even though many of the talkers, and 
writers, should know no more of the matter than myself. 
Nobody, I believe, John, when thou first enteredst the pas- 
ture from the straw yard, and didst begin to bellow till every 
ox and cow, aye, and ass too, heard thee 'to the water-side, 
and even on the other side of the water, thought that thy 
bellowing would do any good, or even be attended to at all j 
and yet (though it did for a season get thee into the pound,) 
in the end it certainly produced considerable effect ; it put 
a stop to a good deal of roaring, braying, and bellowing, as 
well as to some indecent exhibitions, which were before 
rather offensive in the neighbourhood. So that thou, John, 
oughtest not to deny to others a privilege which has been, 
in some respects at least, useful to thyself. 

* * * I am no advocate, John, for the constant, 
or even very frequent, introduction on common occasions 
of religious terms or references : when religion is perpe- 
tually slipping off the tongue, it seldom retains its seat and 
its full power in the heart. But, if there be one motive which 
ought more than all others to influence the determination 
of British senators, that one is religion. It is religion which 
has exalted and which sustains this country in the high 
station that she now occupies above all other states. Shall 
we, then, kick from under us the ladder by which we have 
mounted, and on which we stand ? * * * 

Some extracts from " Three Letters from John Bull, jun., 
to his Brother Jonathan/' may be introduced in this place, 
as a companion to the foregoing; though it is shown by the 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 105 

subject that they could not be written till some time after- 
wards. They alike evince his characteristic humour, and 
the native tact with which he blended humour with argu- 
ment, making each subservient to the other. 

THE UNITED STATES. 

PROFESSIONS AND PRACTICES CONTRASTED. 

Ill Three Letters, from John Bull, junior, to his Brother Jonathan. 
Respectfully dedicated to the American Congress, and to 
British Merchants trading to that Country. 

" Thou that makest thy boast of the law, through breaking the law, 
dishonourest thou God ?" — Romans, ii. 23. 



LETTER I. 

"We are verily guilty concerning our brother." — Genesis, xlii. 21. 

" Dear Brother Jonathan, 

' ( Though I very often thought of you, and have 
at times had occasion to correspond in the way of business 
with some of the younger members of your family, this is the 
first time that I have felt called upon to address you as the 
head of it. I am sorry this first occasion should be to find 
fault, but I must candidly confess that, of all our fraternity, 
you have always been the least of a favourite with me. It 
is not any misconduct which compelled our father to send 
you so far from home that I allude to, for those errors I 
should hope that you have long ago forsaken, and become 
ashamed of; but you seem to me to have quite repudiated 
the family, though I guess that you still try to speak your 
mother tongue, — but they are deeds and not words that I 
allude to ; and I really am myself so true a Bull, that any 
f 2 



10G AUTOBIOGRAPHY AM» 

deviation from the old family character seems to me a depar- 
ture from excellence. 

I own, Jonathan, that all our brothers have their pecu- 
liarities j but still, they retain more of John's plain dealing 
than I think you do. As to little Davy, he's a good, 
quiet, honest lad ; only let him splutter to his nanny-goat, 
and fetch out his old musty roll of parchment to prove that 
he sprung from some ancient Briton, who lived long before 
Adam, and he'll eat his leeks and cheese in peace, without 
caring for or troubling any of us. I dare say that you see 
little or nothing of him. As to Sandy, he'll live, how- 
ever bare the ground may be ; he is not content to make 
two blades of corn grow where there was before only one, 
but he can produce a crop where corn never before appeared. 
I dare say that you see a good deal of Sandy, — indeed he is 
here, and there, and everywhere : he is indebted to all the 
world, and all the world to him. As to poor Pat, I fear that 
when he visits even you, it is in sad plight. I suspect that 
you don't much admire each other ; you differ the most of 
any two of us. I like poor Pat. He has been hardly used, 
not because he was either despised or neglected, but because 
nobody knew how to serve the poor fellow. Pat might be the 
best man of us all, if the proper means were used ; but all 
his brothers are his enemies, — certainly without designing it. 
His farm, his homestead, his very coat off his back, and his 
straw from under him, have all by degrees been taken from . 
him. I don't know what is to become of poor Pal ; bid Pal 
himself cares as little about the nutter as any one could in 
such circumstances. 

It is because I love you, Jonathan, as a brother, that I 
now embrace an opportunity, which I have long looked for, 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 107 

of speaking my mind, and of giving you a little of what I 
think is good advice. The occasion which has now induced 
me to address you is, that of out family here having been 
solicited to contribute something in aid of your "Colo- 
nization Society/' the object of which, it appears, is, 
to form and support a settlement on the coast of Africa, 
called Liberia, conveying to that place such negroes as, 
being slaves in America, shall consent, on condition of 
being set free, to be transported to that settlement. Now, 
Jonathan, my lad, I must begin at the beginning. I don't 
want unnecessarily to rip up old grievances, but it is neces- 
sary to ascertain on what ground we stand. You know, 
Jonathan, that some of your family were sent to the New 
World, as it is called, not for having a black skin, but for 
correction and amendment ; you, therefore, must know, in 
some measure, what it is to be transported. 

The sending you so far, Jonathan, was a great expense to 
this country, and so was the maintaining you for many years 
till you increased, and multiplied, and prospered so much, 
that you were enabled, in some degree, to repay the trouble 
and expense to which you had put the family here. It was 
respecting the means of doing this, I well remember, that 
you and your father's family here first differed. Perhaps, as 
in family disputes is often the case, both parties were right 
and both were wrong. 

Had you at that time at once parted friends, both, I am 
persuaded, would have been gainers by the separation. You 
were become of age, and naturally wanted to begin for your- 
self. Old John thought that you owed him much service, 
and, like other people, Jonathan, he was tenacious of rights, 
even to the retention of them by wrong (remember this, 



l 11 ^ Ai T0BI0GEAP1TS AND 

Jonathan) ! Our good old father could not stomach his 
ship Load of tea being all put together into your harbour of 
Boston, which you converted into a tea-pot on the occasion. 

Neither did he like to hear of his faithful servants, the ex- 
cisemen, being converted into boobies, by being tarred and 
feathered. I don't know, Jonathan, what you would have 
called tricks like these, had they been played by some of your 
negro slaves, or native inhabitants of America, on your 
slave drivers or tribute collectors, who might ungratefully 
imagine that you were oppressing them. A telescope, 
Jonathan, has two ends to look through, — remember that. 

"Well but, Jonathan, it must be admitted that you cer- 
tainly did fight manfully for what you termed Fueedom ; and 
freedom — real freedom, Jonathan — is at any rate worth some- 
thing, though, perhaps, (your Peace Society may say,) not 
worth fighting for. Nevertheless, after shedding and losing 
so much blood to acquire it, you cannot but esteem it highly. 
In England, you had forfeited it, and lost it ; in America, 
you had fought for it, won it, and obtained it. No human 
beings then, Jonathan, one would imagine, could either 
better understand the nature of freedom, or be more tena- 
cious of retaining it themselves, or of bestowing it upon 
others, than you would be. You would pity, one would con- 
ceive, even a dog in chains. Indeed, no people in the 
world, I apprehend, ever before made half the noise about it 
that you then did. Though I was at that time but a lad, 1 
was so impressed with the clamour you made, that I have 
never since forgot it, nor ceased to prize freedom as one of 
the first of earthly blessings; but then it must be freedom 
that doubly blesses, or it loses its nature. I scarcely ad- 
mired more your then fine flaunting flag, containing, as it did, 



SELECT EEMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 109 

only thirteen stripes, than I did your world-embracing, 
world-alarming declaration, that all men are born free, 
and that all men are born with equal rights. Freedom 
and equality of rights formed, then, the foundations on 
which your now far-famed Eepeblic, Jonathan, was erected. 

There was no partiality, no respect of persons, no aristo- 
cracy with hereditary rights. Discarding all such idiot dis- 
tinctions, common in the old feudal governments of Europe, 
your infant Eepublic declared that she would look with ecpial 
kindness not only on all her children, but on all the nume- 
rous offspring of the family of man. 

Jonathan ! Jonathan ! didst thou form thy boasted liberty- 
giving Eepublic with a lie in they right hand ? 

* * * Oh, Jonathan ! if Slavery be a condemning 
Sin to all States who sanction it, even though they defend 
it, what must it be to you, who are the loudest of all others 
in condemning it, and in asserting your renouncement of it, 
while you, at the same time, hear the groans or witness the 
tears of those whom you are oppressing at every step ! 

"Tom and Charles; or, the; Grinders ; M being the his- 
tory of two boys educated in the Charity School at Sheffield, 
was published in 1823. The scene throughout is in the neigh- 
bourhood of Sheffield. Two extracts from it, illustrative of 
the scenery in that neighbourhood, and the character and 
habits of the grinders, will be given here. 

It may here be necessary to explain, in some degree, the 
nature of the trade, the building and the situation, in which 
Tom and Charles were by Providence again placed together. 
What are technically denominated wheels in Sheffield and 
the neighbourhood, are mills for grinding the iron and steel 



110 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

articles manufactured in the district called Hallamslure: to 
the limits of which the powers of the incorporated body of 
Cutlers extend. The building itself is generally the property 
of one person, but he lets off, to different grinders, what are 
denominated the troughs, or the parts in which each grinding- 
stone is fixed. One grinder, however, lias often several of 
these troughs for himself and apprentices. The grinders, 
therefore, are little independent masters, working for any 
manufacturer with whom they can make a bargain. A con- 
siderable number of them are thus employed under the same 
roof. The buildings, particularly the old ones, are frequently 
irregular in their form ; consisting of parts added at different 
times, aud rude in their construction. Often little more than 
the roof is visible, the rooms being sunk deep in the ground. 
The stream in which this wheel was situated is called 
the Rivelin — a beautiful, clear, trout stream, falling rapidly 
down a deep rocky channel, which winds through a narrow, 
retired, well-wooded vale. The steep sides of this glen are 
in summer finely diversified with light verdant foliage, gro- 
tesque rocks, and bleak uncultivated open ground, thickly 
clothed with purple heath, yellow furze, and green fern, 
among which lie scattered many rude-shapen moss-grown 
stones. The alder, the weeping birch, and the graceful ash, 
often unite their branches, from the opposite banks of the 
stream, forming a light natural arch of delicate trellis-work, 
through which the rays of the vertical sun sparkle on the 
clear rippling waters beneath. Within the distance of a 
few hundred yards of each other, all down the stream, are 
situated many of the wheels before described. Attached to 
each of them, and almost on a level with their roofs, are the 
dams, the irregular shape of whose bush, furze, and rush- 
grown banks, gives them the appearance, when viewed from 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. Ill 

above, of small natural lakes : these pellucid sheltered waters, 
rarely ruffled by the breeze, reflect, witli soft and harmonized 
tints, the opposite woods and mountains. The wheels them- 
selves, as well as their accompanying figures, are highly pic- 
turesque. The ground about them is generally rugged and 
richly variegated ; the yellow tint, which is always spread in 
a greater or lesser degree on every object around, harmonizes 
and warms the whole — forming, at the same time, a beautiful 
contrast with, the varied green foliage on either side. The 
mountains, up the stream, continue to increase in height 
and rude sterility, till they look down westward upon the 
towering Tor of the Peak of Derbyshire. The perpetual 
sound of the rushing waters, as they flow from the revolving 
wheels, or dash down the falls from the dams, with the faintly 
heard monotonous hum and noise of the works and work- 
men within, produce a lulling and pleasing accompaniment 
to the scene ; disposing the contemplative mind to calm and 
serious reflection. Man here, as almost everywhere else, 
seems to be the only object which prevents the philosopher 
and the Christian from crying out, " All is good \" 

The grinders are nearly the only inhabitants of the valley, 
and they do not reside in it. There is scarcely a dwelling- 
house throughout the whole length of it. They are a rough 
half-civilized class. Removed thus from the restrictions of 
society, and the observation of all authority, they associate 
only with each other. In summer, when the mountain 
streams, which feed their infant river, are almost dried up, 
they have not a supply of water to employ them half their 
time. As, however, it is uncertain when the uppermost 
dam will be sufficiently filled to enable the wheel to work, 
and to dismiss the fluid element to the expecting wheels 



112 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

below, they are under the necessity of being almost con- 
stantly upon or near the place, to take advantage of the 
supply when it does arrive. At those times groups of 
human beings may be seen, near every wheel, which, taken 
with the surrounding scenery, form such subjects as are 
well fitted for the pencil of a Salvator. Athletic figures, 
with brown-paper turbans, the sleeves of their shirts rolled 
high up, exposing their brawny arms bare almost to the 
shoulders, their short jackets unbuttoned, and their shirt- 
collars open, displaying their broad, dark, hairy chests ; 
their short leathern aprons, their breeches' knees unbuttoned ; 
and their stockings slipped down about their ankles, the 
whole tinged with ochre-coloured dust, so as to leave the 
different colours and materials faintly discoverable, form a 
figure, even when taken singly, sufficiently picturesque : 
when grouped, as they generally are, they become strikingly 
so. You there see them, some seated on the stone-raised, 
turf-covered bench at the door, with their copious jug and 
their small pots, handing round the never-cloying English 
beer; others reared up against the large round grinding 
stones, supported by the walls of the buildings; others, 
again, seated on the same kind of stones, lying upon aud 
against eacli other on the ground, whilst some are stretched 
at their length dozing, or contemplating, on the verdant 
sloping bank of the milldam; some are amusing themselves 
with athletic exercises, and others are devising or slyly 
engaged in executing some rude practical jokes. At times 
you may perceive, as an exception to the general habits, a 
solitary wandering ruminator with a book, but much oftener 
with a pipe. These are not beings, this is not a situation, 
(Void which to expect refinement or delicacy of sentiment or 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 113 

conduct. They are too much their own masters to be 
under the restraint of others ; they are too little so to be 
under the restraint of their own better principles and judg- 
ment : they feel themselves in some measure separated from 
the rest of the world, and opposed in self-interest and one 
common cause, to those with whom they transact business. 
Accustomed to command their" apprentices, their children, and 
their wives, their unbending tempers cannot brook control. 
Bound together by one common interest, they are continu- 
ally plotting to advance their wages or to gain additional 
privileges. Idleness is the nurse of wickedness ; these men 
are in some degree at times necessarily idle, and they are 
consequently more or less wicked. "When they are em- 
ployed, they can earn great wages ; this enables them to 
support their idleness and intemperance, and it early 
habituates them to licentious practices. 

Such were the scenes and the people among whom Tom 
and Charles were now thrown. Tom soon felt himself at home 
amongst the latter ; Charles was delighted with the former. 

* * * "It was a great trouble to Charles that he 
could not kneel down by the side of his bed, morning and 
evening, as he always used to do, and say his prayers. The 
two elder apprentices so ridiculed and disturbed him, that 
he found it impossible. He was therefore under the neces- 
sity of praying in bed, and on such opportunities as he 
could find in the day-time. The language and the conduct 
of the men among whom he was placed, shocked him ex- 
ceedingly ; whilst Tom, who was his only acquaintance, was 
his bitter enemy, and as wicked as the rest. Every hour 
his life appeared to be in danger ; he had no friend to 
protect or to advise him ; his desolate and forsaken sit.ua- 



Hi AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

tion, ns he sat on a grey moss-grown stone, half buried in 
ling, pressed heavily on his mind and heart. Not a habita- 
tion, not a creature, was to be seen. He looked within and 
around him, and he felt as if he was alone in the wide, wide 
world. He looked up to heaven : he burst into tears. The 
following words from his Bible came so strongly to his 
recollection, that they appeared as if addressed with an 
audible voice : — " God, that comforteth those that are cast 
down, comforteth us." He fell upon his knees, and he 
poured out his full heart before his God : when he arose, 
a sweet serenity had spread itself over his mind; his 
troubles appeared removed ; he was assured that his prayer 
had been heard; he now was certain, not only that there 
was a powerful God, but that he himself was the object of 
the care of that Almighty Being. He had read of the 
operating influence of the Holy Spirit, and he had, at that 
moment, no more doubt of his having experienced it than he 
had of his existence. He felt a degree of confidence such 
as he had never possessed before ; he was now assured, not 
only that he was not a solitary, forsaken, and persecuted being, 
but, on the contrary, that he had an all-powerful Friend 
always at hand, and always disposed to listen to Ins suppli- 
cation, and to serve even him in time of need. He no 
longer felt a dread of encountering the difficulties of his 
situation ; he knew them to be great, but he now knew that 
with God all things are possible, and that He could enable 
him either to overcome or bear them. 

With a light heart, and a calm spirit, he returned to his 
hitherto comfortless home. He thought that both his 
master and mistress were less harsh than usual, and the 
children more glad than ever to see him : even the grinders 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 115 

appeared to hini to commiserate his situation, and to be less 
disposed to ridicule and abuse him. In Tom he could 
perceive no change ; but he felt no enmity whatever towards 
him, and would have been happy in embracing any oppor- 
tunity of serving him. He had now no difficulty respect- 
ing his praying. He found that he could pray with as 
much satisfaction and effect by the side of a rude stone, 
on the top of a mountain, as by the side of his bed in a 
chamber. In this conviction he was more confirmed, by 
finding, on a more attentive perusal of the gospels, that this 
had been the constant practice of the Son of God himself, 
who, coming upon earth to save sinners, took upon himself 
the likeness of man, subjected himself to all their infirmities, 
and was tempted in all things like unto them.'" 

^ * * tt Q iar l es ' s master was a great deal from 
home ; he seemed very unhappy, and often entered in liquor. 
One night he did not come at all : nothing was heard of him 
the next day. The wife became miserable; towards even- 
ing Charles told her that, when he had put the children to bed, 
he would go and seek him : he had heard of his being seen 
at "Worral on the preceding day. It was November ; the 
night was dark and tempestuous ; Charles sought for him 
in vain, till about eleven o'clock ; he then heard, by a man 
who came into the public -house at Worral, that his master 
had been that day attending a committee-meeeting at Brad- 
field. Indefatigable in every good cause, Charles was re- 
solved, if possible, to find him before morning, for he 
dreaded returning to distress his mistress without him. 
Bradfield was about five miles distant. The whole way at 
that time lay over one of the highest, roughest, and least 
frequented moors in the neighbourhood ; Charles, however, 



116 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

knew every stone which had been set up in ages long gone 
by, to guide the travelleron his almost trackless way. He 

was acquainted with every rock and every cavern ; he took 
the nearest road, which was over Loxley Edge, the highest 
ridge of the moors. . He had to pass beneath the bleached 
bones of the murderer Frank Fearn, which then hung 
swinging on the gibbet in the almost decayed iron rings 
winch had once contained his body. Charles was unac- 
quainted with superstitious fears j otherwise the uproar of 
the elements, and the cracking of the gibbet, when he 
approached it, would have appalled him. The wind blew a 
perfect hurricane ; the rain fell in torrents ; Charles found 
it impossible to proceed. For some time he bore up with 
all his strength against the furiousness of the tempestuous 
wind. In spite of all his efforts, the blast inclined his 
steps towards the edge of the frightful precipice, which he 
well knew was near at hand. His continued exertions 
gradually weakened him, and he felt that he must, in all 
probability, be carried over the edge, and perhaps dashed to 
pieces in the fall, or against the loose stones at the bottom 
of the rock. The ground was all bare ; there was not a 
shrub or anything on which he conld lay hold to arrest him 
in his progress towards seemingly inevitable destruction. 
The gibbet was considerably to the right ; he felt convinced 
that his only chance was to reach and lay hold of that. 
Collecting all his strength, as the wind a little abated, he 
made a desperate effort ; lie had nearly accomplished his 
purpose, when he set his foot on something which rolled 
from under it, and threw him down ; it was a loosened bone 
which had fallen from the skeleton of the gibbeted murderer. 
The strong effort which he had made carried him within 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 117 

reach of the gibbet. He clasped it with both his arms, 
though they were lacerated by the tenter -hooks which had 
been driven in on all sides of it to prevent its being ascended 
by any one. Every returning gust seemed as if it would 
tear up the post from its deep foundation. The earth 
heaved so strongly, that Charles could not but expect that 
he should be thrown up with the earth by its fall, and 
perhaps be buried in the grave which it would open in the 
ground beneath him. He lay some time before he could 
fully recover either his strength or his recollection. The 
creaking of the massive old post, the grating of the rusty 
iron ribs that surrounded the skeleton, as they swung about 
in the blast, the falling of detached parts or loosened bones, 
continually assailed his ears, while the roaring and whistling 
of the tempest sounded as if the wild and enraged spirits 
of the air were contending over his head for the remnants of 
the murderer's body. To superstitious fears, as before 
observed, Charles was pretty much a stranger ; still he could 
not feel quite composed in his present really perilous situa- 
tion : imagination, too, as he clung to the gibbet-post, lent 
her aid to heighten and increase the awful solemnity of the 
circumstances in which he lay. On this very spot was the 
foul murder perpetrated. The day, nay, the evening, before 
he fell a sacrifice to the savage assassin, Charles had seen 
the unfortunate victim in all the security of health and happi- 
ness. Poor Andrews was a watchmaker in the High-street. 
Charles had by nature a mechanical turn; he therefore 
rarely passed the shop of the artist without stopping to 
admire the facility with which he appeared to put the several 
parts of the complicated and wonderful machine together. 
The very height of Charles's ambition at that time would 



IIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

have been to be a watchmaker. The evening preceding 
the murder, Charles had thus stood for more than an hour 
at the window by candle-light, watching the ingenious artist 
at his work. He had seen the youthful wife, with all the 
fond endearment of early conjugal affection, leaning her arm 
upon the shoulder of her happy husband, amusing him with her 
chat, and occasionally lrindering him (nothing provoked) by 
her playful roguery. Before the next evening, the beloved 
and loving husband was a murdered corpse, stretched upon the 
very spot on which the youthful spectator of his short-lived 
happiness then lay. Eude as was the tempest, dangerous 
as was his situation, Charles could not help moralizing on 
the uncertain and transitory nature of all earthly bliss. He 
could not but shudder, when he saw by the transient glare 
of the flashes of sheet lightning winch at times illuminated the 
atmosphere, the skeleton remains of the treacherous and 
ferocious murderer, F earn, swinging over his head, as threaten- 
ing every moment to fall and crush him also to death on 
the very spot where the unoffending Andrews had perished. 
Charles commended himself in prayer to God. He felt his 
strength and his spirits by degrees return : he resolved to 
make another effort to proceed. He knew that there was a 
narrow rude path-way down the rocks ; and he thought that 
he could find it, even in the dark. He remembered that 
from the bottom of the rocks there was a narrow passage 
which led into different caves, in any of which he should be 
able, if he could reach them, to obtain shelter from the rain, 
and from the furiousness of the storm. On his hands and 
knees, then, he crawled towards the edge of the precipice. 
He had just reached the top of the narrow path, when the 
tempest became more furious than ever ; that moment he 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 119 

heard a report amidst the uproar, like the explosion of a 
mine ; a rustling, as of mighty wings, assailed his ears ; his 
hat was beaten by them from his head ; he could see nothing; 
he made an effort to rise and recover his hat ; the wind 
bore him off his feet ; he felt that he must inevitably fall 
over the precipice, and in all probability be dashed to pieces 
at the bottom. As he fell, he instinctively stretched out his 
hands to save lnmself, and caught the branch of a scathed 
yew that projected from the cleft of the rock, in which it 
had stood for ages. He hung suspended in the air unable 
to feel any thing with his feet. The swollen torrent of the 
Loxley roared at a distance beneath, while the eddying blast 
swung his body in all directions, till he could scarcely keep 
his hold. His situation was truly perilous ; he could not see 
the depth beneath him, nor even the distance that he hung 
from the face of the rock. At length a bright and long- 
continued flash of lightning enabled him to perceive that 
the path passed over a projection of the rock, nearly, but 
not quite, under him, at about two yards below his feet. 
Waiting, then, till the wind was bearing him in that direc- 
tion, he suddenly relincpiished his hold, and happily alighted, 
unhurt, upon the path-way below. His escape appeared 
little less than miraculous ; he had difficulty in believing 
himself safe ; his spirits were much agitated : at length he 
burst into tears, and, falling on his knees, returned thanks 
to God for his merciful deliverance. 

"With considerable re-assurance, Charles now, with slow 
and careful steps, pursued his way along the steep and 
rugged path. Sheltered in a great measure by the rocks 
from the fury of the wind, he kept upon his feet without much 
difficulty ; and he arrived at length at the entrance of the 



L5J0 a I lullIOGRAPIIY AND 

caves without sustaining serious injury, though completely 

soaked by the rain. Entering one of these, which he found 
warm and dry, his ears were astounded by an uproar which 
at first somewhat surprised and alarmed him. lie stood for 
some moments listening, without moving from the place. 
It seemed as if rlie yells, the screams, the groans, the 
whistlings, and the shouts of ten thousand wild and savage 
beings, were united to form one of the most horrid choruses 
that imagination could conceive. Charles, however, was 
soon convinced that these sounds proceeded from nothing 
supernatural, but were caused partly by the uproar without, 
and partly by the wind which found entrance within. There 
were several caves of different dimensions, of which he 
knew, and there might be others communicating with them 
by holes or fissures in the separating rocks. Through these 
he was convinced the wind forced its way, and produced the 
appalling noise which at the first so much surprised him. 

Having now escaped from the pouring rain, Charles, to 
be relieved from the burthen of his coat, took it off in order 
to wring out the water as well as he could. He was busily 
employed in this act, when he was startled by what he felt 
almost certain were human voices, mingling with the uproar 
of the elements. Transfixed to the place, he listened with 
the utmost attention; he scarcely drew his breath. The 
uproar continued, but he could no longer distinguish the 
voices. Still his heart continued to palpitate. The cave 
was pitchy dark : it was as vain to strain his eyes as his 
ears. Conceiving at length that he had been mistaken, he 
resumed the wringing of his coat. Stooping, he was thus 
employed, when he perceived upon the ground a soft reflec- 
tion of light. He raised his head quickly to discover from 



SELECT REMAINS OE SAMUEL ROBERTS. 121 

whence it proceeded, when he observed what appeared to be 
a faint luminous being moving with rapidity along the side 
of the cave, and vanishing in one of the deep recesses at its 
farthest end. Its motion was so quick, and the light so 
faint, that he could form no distinct idea of its form or 
substance. Much wondering at the strange occurrence, he 
stood for some time motionless, with his coat half on and 
half off. Again he was convinced that he heard voices. 
He suspected that it was fancy, caused by the slight alarm. 
Still he listened, and at length became confirmed in the 
assurance that there were voices of human beings mixed 
with the other sounds. Exceedingly surprised, he felt a 
considerable degree of trepidation. He tried to pray, but 
his spirits were too much agitated. Recovering, however, 
more composure and resolution, he determined, if possible, 
to ascertain from whence both the light and the voices pro- 
ceeded. He pat on his coat, and stretching forth his 
hands, began carefully to advance farther into the cavern. 
He had not gone many steps before he fell forward over 
some soft substance. A deep groan, as that of a dying 
man, was heard proceeding from some one under him. 
Charles's heart now beat quick and strong; he got up and 
felt about with his hands to discover what it was that he 
had fallen over. It was a human body — motionless, but 
still breathing. Agitated beyond measure, Charles still 
determined to persevere in the search. He felt more of fear 
than he had hitherto been acquainted with; his firmness, 
arising from trust in God, was not however overcome. 
Silently, carefully, and slowly he proceeded over the rugged 
ground. He had almost reached the part of the cave in 
which the luminous body vanished, when he heard the 



L22 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

voices much more distinctly than he had done before. He 
was listening attentively, when he saw the faint light re- 
appear in the plaee where he before lost sight of it : it 
passed rather rapidly in a contrary direction, and stopped 
against the face of the rock about the middle of the cave. 
Charles now discovered that it was caused by a ray of light 
proceeding from a small aperture in the rock, on the op- 
posite side of the cavern. Satisfied now of there being 
nothing supernatural concerned, he felt his usual composure 
return, and advanced towards the opening from which the 
light, and lie thought the voices, proceeded. He could now 
just see to find his way. The voices became more audible 
as he advanced, and he could at length distinguish different 
and numerous sounds, as of persons in loud and earnest 
conversation. 

The rock through which the light came was thick j and 
the hole at the farther end being very small, he could dis- 
tinguish no object : the light, he thought, proceeded from a 
small dark lantern. Charles applied his ear to the aperture, 
and was soon convinced that he recognised the voices of both 
his master and Tom : he listened attentively, but the uproar 
caused by the wind was still so great, that it was but little 
that he could distinctly catch. After some time, however, 
he clearly made out that a plan had been agreed upon to 
destroy the machinery of a wheel at which some grinders 
were working at the usual prices. There was something 
further to be done, but when they spoke of it, it was in a 
lowered tone, and they appeared divided in opinion on the 
subject. His master, he thought, opposed it ; Tom, on the 
contrary, he was sure, warmly insisted upon it. Charles 
listened till he thought thai they were going to break up. 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 123 

He then concluded that he had better be going, well assured 
that if it were to be known that he had overheard them, his 
life would be in considerable danger. 

His mind had been so absorbed by the conversation to 
which he had been listening, that he had almost forgotten 
the body over which he had fallen. He now endeavoured 
to find it again, and soon succeeded. He felt that it was 
the dress of a grinder ; he tried to raise the head, when a 
voice which he knew well bawled out, " Hey, Tom, come, 
gi 'us a lift, lad, wilt V Satisfied now that it was only a 
drunken brute, whom he well knew, that had got into the 
wrong cave, he left him, and hastened homeward as fast as 
he could. On his way he endeavoured to account for the 
loud report which he had heard, and the blow which he had 
received on the head when on the top of the precipice. This 
he could only do, by supposing that some of the grinders had 
wantonly fired a pistol in the cave, and that an owl, alarmed 
at the report, had been so frightened as to be driven to face 
the tempest, and had in the dark been blown against his 
head, while with her wings she had beat off his hat. 

Charles waited up till his master came back, which was 
not long. He seemed greatly agitated, and expressed his 
displeasure at finding him up. Charles determined to give 
information of the intended attack on the wheel to the 
owner, and to prevent, by some means or other, his master 
from being of the party. He set off to Sheffield to put a 
letter in the post-office early in the morning, and got back 
before his master was up. When the latter came down 
stairs he was evidently unwell. He was exceedingly restless 
throughout the day, but never quitted home. When the 
children were put to bed, about eight o' clock in the evening* 



] 2 i AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

he said to Charles, " I am so very badly that I must go to 
bed. If I don't get up before ten, should any one call for 
me, tell them that I am so ill that I cannot stir out." 
About ten the latch was softly lifted ; Charles opened the 
door. The man, whom Charles knew, started when he saw 
the lad instead of his master. Charles told him, as he had 
been instructed, of his master's illness. The man looked 
incredulous, shook his head, and went away without 
speaking. A whispering was heard for a short time at the 
door. Charles sat up about two hours longer, but not 
hearing any thing more of his master, he then went to bed. 

The next day intelligence came, that Tom, with three 
others, had been taken in the wheel before alluded to, in 
the act of destroying the machinery. They were committed 
to take their trials at the ensuing assizes; but Tom, on 
account of his youth, and being, as it was thought, under 
the influence of the others, was reprimanded and dismissed. 

Of Mr. R/s publications in prose, on the subject of 
Slavery, specimens have been already given. The following 
poem was written in 1824. 

THE DEATH OF QUAMINA. 

" In the late insurrection in Demerara, Quamina, a 

Christian slave, and deacon in the church, finding himself 
suspected, fled to the woods for freedom and safety. He 
had done violence to no one ! A reward was offered to any 
person taking him, dead or alive. He was shot in the woods 
unarmed, and his body suspended on a gibbet. He had 
never been cither condemned or tried. He was a British 
subject; his murderers were British subjects loo. The fol- 



SELECT REMAINS OE SAMUEL ROBERTS. 125 

lowing are supposed to be the dying words of the murdered 
Quamina : — 

Though shot by the white man, Quamina is dying, 

The ball was directed by mercy above; 
Though now near his heart the cold bullet is lying, 

That heart, as it bleeds, is still glowing with love. 

Though Quamina, the heathen, had scorned all complaining, 
The heart of his foe had been pierced with his steel ; 

Yet Quamina, the Christian, from vengeance refraining, 
Can pardon his foes, though their wounds he can feel. 

Ah ! see where already the gibbet is standing, 

Erected his body to raise from the earth ; 
But the soul of Quamina, its bright wings expanding, 

Will soar to those skies where the day-spring has birth. 

Shall the Christian Quamina complain of behaviour 
That soon from a world of oppression will free, 

When He who redeemed him, — his meek, spotless Saviour, 
Was pierced by the spear and expired on the tree ? 

With a heart that too proudly for freedom was panting, 
I fled from oppression, that freedom to gain ; 

Though the patient endurance of martyrs was wanting, 
I murdered no tyrant, inflicted no pain. 

I grieve for my country, in darkness benighted, 
I mourn for her children, in slav'ry retained ; 

But Oh ! I behold (though still distant) delighted, 
That country enlightened, her children unchained. 



126 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

Thai the hour of departure is come cannot grieve me, 
M\ sorrows are ended, my labours arc done; 

I come, Oh! my heavenly Father, receive me! 
And pardon my sins, for the sake of Thy Son/' 

On one of his rarely occurring temporary absences from 
home the following lines were produced. 

TO THE MILL-BAY STREAM. 

About four miles to the south of Scarborough is a small bay, formed 
by an amphitheatre of steep hills and rocks. About the centre, 
on the shore, stands a corn-mill (which gives name to the Bay), 
worked by a stream which springs at once from the side of the 
lull, not more than fifty yards from the little dam. 

Alone I stood to mark thy birth, 
I saw thee issue from the earth, 
And heard thy first enraptured cry, 
When all heaven's glories met thine eye ; 
An infant giant in his force, 
Eejoicing to begin his course. 
I heard thee first, delighted, raise 
Thy silvery tones of joy and praise : 
I watched thy sparkling beauties play, 
Eefulgent in the solar ray ; 
My foot still press' d the mountain-flower, 
That sprang beside thy natal bower ; 
And yet mine eye, so short thy race, 
Thy course from life to death could trace. 
I lov'd to see thee bound along, 
To hear thy simple mountain song; 
To mark the wild flowers, at thy voice, 
Erect their heads and all rejoice 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 127 

But joys are short, afflictions sure, — 

Here all must labour, all endure; 

I saw thee dooru'd, in early life, 

To bear unwonted toil and strife ; 

Nor didst thou shun the task assigned ; 

Thy belt around I saw thee bind. 

Thy voice had ceas'd, thy sparkling fled, 

Sedate and calm thy steps were staid ; 

I saw thee pause, and then unite 

To all thy genius, all thy might ; 

I watch' d thine infant powers expand, 

And saw thee then undaunted stand ; 

While all heaven's beauties I could trace, 

Reflected from thy trancpiil face. 

I heard a mighty gushing sound, 

The huge machine was whirl' d around. 

Thy work was done ! — I heard thee breathe, 

Exhausted, on the rocks beneath ; 

I saw thee force with effort strong, 

Thy way those rugged rocks among, 

Undaunted; though the strife at length 

Subdu'd thy then enfeebled strength ; 

I saw thee stretched upon the sand, 

Where calm the ocean- waves expand; 

And heard, or thought I heard, a voice, 

That spoke from ocean's bed, — 
My faithful servant, now rejoice," 

Methought a spirit said : 
Now all is well ; thy course is done, 

Thy race was swiftly, nobly run : 
The fight is o'er, the battle won." 



1 2 v AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

I raark'd the calmness of thy breast, 
While gliding to thy home of rest ; 
I saw a radiance round thee spread, 
As ocean's waves clos'd o'er thine head. 

This year was published "The Chimney-Sweepers' Friend 
and Climbing-Boys' Album/' arranged by James Mont- 
gomery ; in the Preface to which is stated — the person 
whose name appears in the title-page was not the projector, 
but being urged by a public-spirited friend to join in the 
plan, he had no heart to refuse. The friend alluded to was 
Mr. Roberts. In 1826 came out " The Negroes' Friend; 
or, The Sheffield Anti-Slavery Album," which was edited 
jointly by James Montgomery and Samuel Eoberts. Its 
plan was similar to that of the first-named publication. It 
contained contributions from the pens of various distin- 
guished writers, obtained by means of applications made by 
the Editor, together with those of various Sheffield authors 
unknown to fame. 

On occasion of the death of Bishop Heber, was written 
the following verse, which has the appearance of being an 
Impromptu : — 

" Well done, thou good and faithful servant! come 
Thus early to thy everlasting home ! 
All earthly bishoprics unworthy thee, 
Be thou translated to a nobler see !" 

Probably this might be about the period of the original 
publication of a work bearing the title of " Parallel Mira- 
cles ; or, The Jews and the Gypsies :" a publication of 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 129 

which the general views will best appear from the author's 
own statement, given in an extract from the Introduction. 

* * * «• Nothing of an earthly nature can be well ima- 
gined more stupendous and important than that which was 
the object of these numerous, sublimely awful prophecies" 
(those relating to Egypt). " It was no less than the 
destruction of the mightiest empire that had ever then, that 
in many respects hath ever since existed. It embraced not 
only the total and complete dispersion, throughout the 
world, of all the surviving inhabitants of Egypt, but also 
their so remaining a dispersed people during a long period, 
as well as their final restoration to their native country. 
All these events, too, are foretold to be attended with clearly 
defined circumstances as extraordinary in their nature, as 
they must have then appeared highly improbable, if not 
totally impossible. 

" Egypt was then apparently like the everlasting moun- 
tains, only to be uprooted by the convulsion which should 
destroy the earth itself. The chosen people of God had for 
ages been altogether the most oppressed and abject of 
Egyptian slaves. They had probably been compelled to 
erect their temples, to sculpture their idols, and to worship 
I heir gods. The fertilizing, wealth-sustaining, plenty-giving 
Nile, almost washed the foundations of the walls of thou- 
sands of populous, magnificent, palace-containing cities, 
whose merchants were as princes, and whose monarch was, 
as God, asserting, f My river (my kingdom) is mine own, 
and I have made it for myself/* Idols and gods were 

* " While on their commemorative pillars in the countries which 
they had conquered was inscribed — ' The King of Kings, and Lord of 
Lords, subdued this country by his arms.' " — (See Herodotus.) 

G 2 



180 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

as numerous as the people. Such was Egypt ! Her tem- 
ples, her palaces, and her tombs, were built or excavated to 
defy the tooth of time. They have survived the effects of two 
thousands of years; and if two thousand years more should 
be to pass before the dispersed people are to return to their 
native land, they will, on arriving there, find many of the 
temples and the tombs of then- idol-worshipping forefathers 
still in existence. The most powerful, the most magnifi- 
cent, and the wisest of all the lnonarchs of God's favoured 
people, himself solicited, and obtained, the daughter of her 
king to share with him the throne of the heaven-favoured 
race of Abraham. Egypt was acknowledged if not to have 
been the fountain, at least the reservoir, of all the then 
existing arts and sciences. 

" Such was Egypt, when, by the command of the Almighty, 
three of his prophets, at different periods, and in numerous 
instances, predicted her speedy and total overthrow. They 
did more than this : they predicted the complete dispersion 
of her people, not in their own' neighbouring countries, but 
iu distant countries of the north, — the very names and 
existence of some of winch were then unknown to them. 
Through these were the most numerous, powerful, mag- 
nificent people on the face of the earth decreed to be scat- 
tered, and neither to be brought together nor gathered. 
They were to be houseless, wandering vagabonds, — they 
were to be thrown into the wilderness, — they were to fall 
upon the open fields. Surely these would have been won- 
derful predictions respecting any people at any time : they 
were, however, only the beginning of wonders. These 
dwellers in marble palaces, — these builders of gorgeous tem- 
ples, — these excavators of magnificent everlasting tombs, 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 131 

were to become despised among the most despicable ; their 
bodies were to be given for meat to the beasts of the field 
and to the fowls of the heavens. These god-manufacturers, 
these worshippers of idols (living and dead) innumerable, — 
it was boldly declared by the prophet, should, in their dis- 
persed state, be totally without idols. 

" Such are the extraordinary predictions, it may be said, 
of God himself, for they are ushered in by ' Thus saith the 
Lord V In this extraordinary, unexampled state, spread or 
scattered in the wildernesses, in the open fields of all coun- 
tries, they were decreed to remain, and to be preserved a 
distinct people during forty years : they are then (for I con- 
clude that the forty years cannot be yet expired) to be 
gathered from among all the people whither they have been 
scattered, to the land of then fathers, and are there, though 
a base kingdom, to be taught to know the Lord. 

" The foregoing, it must be acknowledged, are the most 
extraordinary predictions that ever issued respecting any 
people from the mouths of inspired holy men of old ! The 
circumstances are so numerous, so singular, and so clear, 
that they never could apply to two races of human beings ; 
yet, in this case, they must apply to one in every particular. 
We believe that the dispersed Egyptians never have 
returned to their native land, and known the Lord, nor had, 
as predicted, ' a Saviour and a Great One :' if so, and if 
there be one word of truth in any prophecies, they must be 
existing at this time in their dispersed state ; and must, 
when the fulness of time is come, return to the land of their 
forefathers, and there become a Christian people. 

"Where, then, it may be asked are those extraordinary 
people on whose existence the truth of prophecy and the 



132 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

accuracy of the Scriptures depend? If they exist at all, 
they cannot be hid, for they are to be in all countries; they 
cannot be mistaken, since their peculiarities are so numerous 
and so striking : ask not, then, where the scattered Egyp- 
tians are, but rather ask where are they not ? What country 
has not heard of them ? for few countries are without them. 

" During four or five hundred years they have been known 
to have been occupying the wildernesses and the open fields 
of almost every country in Europe. They have from the 
first told every one who they were, and whence they came : 
though they know nothing about Egypt, they all always 
asserted that they were Egyptians. Nobody believed them, 
because, as predicted, they were despised. Images and 
idols they have none : they have ceased. They have, as a 
people, no religion. In all countries they are in all 
respects the same, — all speaking the same language. Now, 
then, if the Gypsies are not the dispersed Egyptians, what 
are they ? If the dispersed and scattered Gypsies are not 
the descendants of the offending Egyptians, where are that 
scattered people ? 

" If an enlightened individual were required to describe a 
people who in every respect would answer to the Egyptians 
in the state denounced against them by all the three major 
prophets, it would be impossible for that person to describe 
a people more clearly and fully agreeing with these ex- 
traordinary denouncements, than the Gypsies now do, and 
have done, at all times, ever since they have been publicly 
noticed, and described at all. "Without a miraculous inter- 
ference, no people could be preserved in such a state : to 
the Egyptians, and to the Jews only, lias such an inter- 
ference ever been promised. 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 133 

"The Gypsies are certainly not more opposed in either 
sentiments or conduct to the purity of Christianity than are 
their supposed fellow -sufferers from the indignation of an 
offended God, — the Jews. How astonishingly does it add 
to the sublimity, the awfulness, and the importance of the 
subject, when it is conceived that the two people have, 
during thousands of years, been linked together in advance- 
ment, in transgressions, in threatenings, in predictions, in 
prosperity, in extirpation, in being driven from their native 
land as outcast wanderers over the face of the whole world ! 
the one people in the cities, hoarding up wealth, and the 
other in the open fields, houseless, and penniless ; each 
being to this day constantly striking, convincing mementos 
of the truth of prophecy, of the hatred of sin, and of the 
sure vengeance of a disregarded and insulted God, to all the 
people and nations on the face of the earth. Consider them 
in this light, and they are neither to be despised as unworthy 
of notice, nor to be disregarded as prognosticators of the 
sure fulfilment of the remaining part of the awfully impor- 
tant prophetic denunciations. 

" Who can read the following prediction of the prophet 
Isaiah against the two people, the Jews and the Egyptians, 
without feeling a conviction that their lot is cast together 1 
' When the Lord shall stretch out his hand, both he that 
helpeth shall fall, and he that is holpen shall fall down, and 
they shall fall down together/ Together they rose, together 
they fell ; and if there be truth in the sure word of prophecy, 
they will together be raised up, together restored to their 
native lands, together be brought to know the Lord, who 
shall send them a Saviour and a Great One. In all human 
probability, the conversion of the Gypsies to Christianity 



131< AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

will clearly be as entirely the work of Almighty Power, as 
their conquest, .dispersion, and preservation as a distinct 
people have been. This, though a discouragement, ought 
not to paralyze the efforts of pious Christians to bring some 
of Lhem to a knowledge of the truth as it is in Christ Jesus 
our Lord. The obstacles are by no means so great as in the 
case of the Jews. The Gypsies are much more willing to 
listen to Christian teachers. They have stronger feelings, 
are more easily wrought upon, and have much fewer old 
established prejudices to overcome." 

A few passages will now be given from the body of the 
work. 

THE ANCIENT EGYPTIANS. 

It is one of the most exalted and interesting exercises of 
the human faculties, to contemplate, at this distance of time, 
the rise, the progress, the splendour, the declension, and 
the extinction of the more renowned among the nations of 
remote antiquity. This is particularly the case when nu- 
merous, massive, and stupendous evidences of the existence 
and the powerful magnificence of such nations still remain, 
after having survived the destructive efforts of time, of 
barbarism, and of the elements, through thousands of years. 

The pleasure and utility of the contemplation are increased, 
when the history of the now extinct nation is evidently and 
intimately connected with the progress of that Divine Govern- 
ment of the universe which is always the same, and with 
which we are, as they were, connected and interested ; and 
still more so, when that nation seems clearly to have been 
one of the first links in an unbroken chain, which we can 
trace from the creation, through all successive ages, to our 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 135 

own days — a chain with which we are connected, and winch 
we can view by the eye of faith, illumin ed by the light of 
prophecy, extending forward into distant futurity, even to 
the end of time. This interest is still further augmented 
when tbe history is one which seized upon our attention as 
soon as the opening faculties of the mind began to unfold ; 
the events recorded being of a nature calculated irresistibly 
to imprint themselves, in characters not to be obliterated, on 
the unoccupied tablet of the human mind. Such is the his- 
tory of the ancient Egyptians. 

* * * The Egyptians appear to afford the most 
striking example with which we are acquainted of the utter 
weakness of all mere human strength, when opposed to the 
power of the Almighty. If they ever possessed any know- 
ledge of the true God, they seem very soon to have utterly 
disregarded and despised it. Their strength, though great, 
was the strength of man ; and their wisdom, though exten- 
sive, was the wisdom of man. They were the declared op- 
pressors of God's people, and the open determined opposers 
of the Divine will and word. God seems to have suffered 
them to attain all [that human faculties could acquire, that 
they might be his instruments in the chastisement of his 
stubborn and rebellious children ; and then (after existing 
sixteen hundred years), when they had so far answered his 
purpose, his power was made manifest in their overthrow, 
and the stupendous ruins of their magnificence and greatness 
decreed to be reserved, probably to the end of time, as a 
lasting and memorable lesson to future generations, teach- 
ing them the vanity and nothingness of all mere mortal 
efforts. * * * 



L86 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

MODERN EGYPT. 

Forty years ago, Egypt would have been among the very 
last countries that would have been judged likely to become 
the stage of actions peculiarly interesting to the inhabitants 

of Europe, and particularly to those of this kingdom, — a 
kingdom so detached and so remotely situated from it. Yet 
within that short period it has been brought most highly 
to interest the different nations of Europe, but particularly 
the English nation. Erom the highest to the lowest; from 
the old to the young; from the most learned to the most 
illiterate ; from the soldier to the priest ; from the grave 
antiquary to the dashing young nobleman ; from the philo- 
sopher to the school-boy : all have of late been more or less 
interested in the transactions and the discoveries occurring 
in that remote country. "Who would have imagined, half a 
century ago, that Egypt would be the country to which the 
armies and navies of England and France would be trans- 
ported, at an enormous expense, to fight their battles; to 
dye the waters of Africa with their blood, and to whiten the 
fields of that distant quarter of the world with their bones ? 
"Who would have imagined that such a man as Buonaparte 
would have appeared, to compel the attention of all the 
civilized world to that desolate country ; or, that such a man 
as Belzoni would sojourn there, to discover, to describe, and, 
in fact, to convey to this country, works of art more extra- 
ordinary and stupendous than almost any with which the 
world was before acquainted, — works which have attracted 
and rivetted the attention of persons of all degrees, ages, and 
acquirements to Egypt and its inhabitants, both in their 
present and former state, in a degree beyond whatever could 
have been imagined possible? Who would have conceived 



SELECT EEMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 



137 



.that, of all these interesting and astonishing works, this 
country, — a country divided from that country by almost a 
quarter of the globe, — should become the depository, at least 
of such of them as were believed capable and worthy of being 
removed; nay, even of many which were then thought 
to be beyond the strength or art of man to convey so 
far?" * * * 

* * * The most striking productions of the arts, 
the most splendid ornaments of their palaces, their temples, 
and their tombs, are brought and exhibited as objects of 
curiosity to a country of which they (the ancient Egyptians) 
had never heard the name ; a country, whose inhabitants 
were then little better than naked painted savages, wandering 
wild in the depths of their native forests. Among this 
people and nation do the descendants of the proud Egyptians 
wander as outcast vagrants ; while the gods and the idols of 
their forefathers are there exhibited as mementos of God's 
power, and as objects to excite astonishment, commiseration, 
or scorn : the useless ornaments of palaces, or the play- 
things of children. The bodies of their ancestors, their 
priests, their nobles, their kings, and their queens, which 
they vainly believed they had rendered immortal, immoveable, 
and undiscoverable, are now exhibited in that despised 
country to the gaze and contempt of the lowest rabble. * * 

THE JEWS. 

* * * If animated nature constitute a more interesting 
subject of contemplation than the inanimate does, then, of 
all animated nature, man affords that which is of all others 
the most so ; and of all men, the Jews stand in that respect 
the first. 



138 AUT0BI0GIU1IIY AND 

With what intense interest do we view, or even read of a 
city, which, after having lain hid during seventeen hundred 
years, has lately been discovered in nearly the same state in 
which it then stood ! But what is this compared to what 
would have been the case, could we have seen the people 
themselves, as they then were, in the same dress, with the 
same peculiarities in their appearance ; speaking the same 
language, having the same laws, observing the same cere- 
monies ; their civil and religious observances the same, — and, 
in short, being in every respect the very people that they 
then were ! This must have been, in an incalculable 
degree, more interesting than merely viewing their houses, 
their theatres, their tombs, and their temples. Such a 
spectacle as this does the Jewish people now afford to us ! 
Nay, a much more imposing one ; inasmuch as they show 
us a people as they existed at a much more remote period. 
Probably they are little, if at all, altered from the time when 
they were led away captive out of the land of Judea by 
Nebuchadnezzar to Babylon : possibly they are in no great 
degree changed since their first obtaining possession of that 
long promised, and now long lost land, to which, it is pro- 
bable, they will in time be restored. * * * 

* * * The Gentiles seem to be fast coming in, and, 
ere long, the mercy which they shall have received may 
extend itself to the blessing of the long despised and 
oppressed Jews. 

How far it may be the design of God to employ human 
agency in the bringing about of this last and greatest 
transitory event, belongs not to man to divine, nor does it, 
perhaps, become him to inquire— let him await with faith 
and patience ; when he is wanted, he will be called. In the 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 139 

meantime, there is a line of duty clearly chalked out for 
him, along which he may walk with confidence and safety. 
It is the path of love ! — love to God and love to man : if he 
love not the latter, he cannot love the former. By this, and 
by this only, can we prove our claim to be the disciples of 
Jesus Christ : by this, and by this only (as far as human 
means are concerned), it is probable the Jews will be led to 
the embracing of Christianity : by the want of this, they 
have hitherto been repulsed and withheld, if not from em- 
bracing it, at any rate from thinking well of it. They have 
experienced everything at the hands of Christians but that 
love and kindness which ought ever to distinguish them. * * 
* * * It is said by the Jews themselves that they 
have forsaken idolatry, and they are, on that account, in 
some instances, ready to question the justice of God, in still 
continuing their degradations and their afflictions, not con- 
sidering that covetousness is idolatry of the very worst 
description ; as is expressly declared in both the Old and 
New Testaments. The object of their idolatrous worship is 
changed, but the disposition of the heart remaineth, and the 
sin is the same. Let them look to tins. Let them purge 
the temple that is within. Let them cast out thence the 
Golden Calf, which they have there set up, and have 
worshipped with more devotion than they have done the 
Lord their God who brought them out of the land of Egypt 
— than they have done Him to whom they look to bring 
them out of all the countries whithersoever He hath driven 
them. It was the worship of the Golden Calf which de- 
prived them of the law written with the finger of God on 
earthly tables of stone ; it is the worship of the Golden Calf 
which deprives them of the covenant of grace written by the 



J 1 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

Holy Spirit of God on the fleshly tables of the heart; 
Whatever they may think of Christians or Christianity, they 
must acknowledge that purity of heart, and freedom from 
the inordinate love of wealth, are essential to the obtaining 
and retaining the blessing of the God of their fathers. * * * 

* * * I am most decidedly of opinion, as before 
stated, that the best, perhaps the only, way in winch we can 
promote the conversion of the Jews, is by the purer practice 
in ourselves of Christianity. If the fulness of the Gentiles 
(whatever that may mean) must first come in, the promotion 
of that preceding event ought to be our primary object. I 
do not conceive that human agency will be excluded from 
the work of the restoration of the Jews, but I am inclined 
to believe that it will, at the same time, be accompanied with 
such an extraordinary display of the Divine presence and 
power as will at once astonish and convince. Human 
agency is seldom, if ever, excluded from any of the great 
events of this world. Man, however, in such cases, is 
clearly only the instrument. The event is ordained, and 
man, unconsciously, perhaps unwillingly, aids in bringing it 
to pass. 

The Jews were ordained by God to be an unbroken chain, 
extending almost from the first peopling of the post-diluvian 
world to its final destruction. Man has been endeavouring, 
throughout almost four thousand years, to break that 
chain j but what have those efforts served to prove ? — his 
own weakness and blindness, and the power and fore- 
sight of God. Conquered and enslaved, oppressed and 
massacred, the Jews have been, times almost innumerable, 
and in a degree never experienced by any other people j but 
what hath been the result ? Not that they have been extir- 



SELECT REMAINS OE SAMUEL ROBERTS. 141 

pated, but that their conquerors, enslavers, and oppressors, 
have been hurled from their seats of power and grandeur — 
themselves and their palaces, their Gods and their temples, 
have been swept away from the face of the earth : or if any 
memorials of them remain, they are such as only serve to 
exhibit to succeeding ages the folly, the weakness, and the 
mutability of all terrestrial things, which rest not on God's 
word or will as a foundation. * * * 

THE JEWS AS CONNECTED WITH THE GYPSIES. 

How wonderfully would it add to the grandeur and im- 
pressiveness of the Jewish preservation, if it should prove, 
as I have surmised, that the Gypsies are the Egyptians, 
contemporaneous with the Jews from the beginning ! That, 
like the Jews, they were doomed for their sins to the vilest 
degradation, and the most severe sufferings ; a dispersed, 
but distinct people, in almost every nation under heaven. 
That, after a certain period, they, too, should be again 
gathered to their own country, as pioneers, or leaders of the 
way, to the Jews, to whose sins and dispersion they had so 
greatly conduced. If all this should prove to be the case, 
how greatly will it add to the sublimity of the Jewish resto- 
ration ! A secondary chain, from its formation, running 
parallel to, but totally distinct from the other, through 
four thousand years, and at last uniting with it, never again 
to be separated ! 

The sins of the people of God have been from the first so 
intimately connected with and owing to the idolatrous Egyp- 
tians, that it can scarcely be wondered at that God should 
condemn them together. 

* * * They both of them grievously offended the 



1 12 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

Righteous Governor of the Universe; and, therefore, He 
appears to Lave judged it right to preserve them both a dis- 
tinct people, and to disperse them through every nation, (the 
one people in the cities, and the other in the fields and deso- 
late places); as constantly living evidences of His power and 
justice in both situations. 

* * * These two extraordinary people seem, then, 
as designed to connect the commencement of the post-dilu- 
vian world with its termination ; constituting, throughout its 
whole course, perpetual miracles, to the confounding of every 
sceptic who shall dare to deny the existence of such miracu- 
lous interference of the Almighty in the government of the 
universe and of its inhabitants. 

* * * Awful, tremendous, and appalling indeed, it 
seems, are to be the circumstances by which the final restora- 
tion of the Jews is to be ushered in. It would seem as if 
all the nations of the earth were to be cast into the fiery 
furnace of God's justice, there to be all amalgamated into 
one mass, in order that all impurities may be carried off by 
absorption, or in base dross, till the residue be purer (ban 
fine gold itself; for the elect's sake, however, it maybe that 
those days may not only be shortened, but much of the 
dreadful inflictions remitted/' 

In 1829, Mr. Roberts gave the reins to fancy in a work 
which, having no parallel among his other productions, can- 
not be omitted among these specimens of his varied talents. 
He imagines the apparently waste space of the interior of 
this mundane sphere occupied by an inner world of inha- 
bitants, such as he there describes. The title of tliis little 
book is as follows : — 



SELECT REMAINS OE SAMUEL ROBERTS. 143 

THE WORLD OE CHILDREN; 

Or 3 the Life aiid Adventures of Arthur Eitzahner, Esq. ; now first 
published for the Amusement and Instruction of all Children 
from Eight to Eighty years of age. 

#**'" It has long perplexed philosophers to as- 
certain the nature of the internal structure of the earth. So 
immense a body of solid unproductive matter appeared to 
our finite comprehension unnecessary, and contrary to the 
usual course of Providence, in which there is no waste. This 
perplexing difficulty is now explained. Nothing more of 
matter seems appropriated, in this instance, any more than 
in others, to the production of the end, than what is neces- 
sary; and as much of life and enjoyment is produced by the 
means employed, as those means are capable of producing. 
Instead of this world being a solid globe of inert matter, as 
hitherto ignorantly supposed, it contains, it will now appear, 
another world within it ; less in some degree, of course, in 
magnitude, but infinitely exceeding our world in its produc- 
tiveness and beauty, as well as in the enjoyment of its purer 
inhabitants ; maintaining and accommodating a far greater 
number of more intelligent and happier beings. 

I shall now proceed to give as accurate a description of 
this internal world as subsequent experience and reflection 
has enabled me to do. 

It appears to me that the shell of our world, if I may so 
call it, is from forty to fifty miles thick ; that is, near the two 
poles it may be fifty, and at the horizon about forty miles 
thick. The concave surface of the internal world will then 
be nearer to the centre at the poles than at the equator ; con- 
sequently it will be highest at the poles. Streams, then, it 



144 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

is evident, wherever they rose, would all flow towards the 
equator: this is to be found the case, — all the streams do 
flow towards the equator. At the equator is a sea, like a 
belt, flowing round the whole of this concave world. Into 
this sea all the streams empty themselves. This lake varies 
from one to two hundred miles in breadth. It does not 
appear to be in any place very deep. In this new world no 
rain falls, but a constant, though almost imperceptible eva- 
poration is taking place, which, rising from the streams and 
sea, waters the whole earth. The sun always shining, and 
the temperature always the same, the process never varies. 
The constant deposition of imperceptible moisture con- 
tinually refreshes the ground, and renders it highly produc- 
tive : this moisture is then conveyed through the capillary 
tubes of the earth to the north and south, where it again 
finds its way out in springs to re-supply the streams. 

I at first entertained an idea that the streams were in a 
great measure supplied from the Polar ice and snow of our 
convex world ; but, on further reflection, I am convinced that 
they contribute but very little. There are, it is true, two 
very considerable openings at the poles from one world to 
the other ; but they may be said to be inaccessible to the in- 
habitants of both worlds, though through the northern one I 
myself obtained admission, as has been related. That as- 
tonishing current of wind rushing in from the outer to the 
inner world, which I experienced, is always the same at both 
poles, being caused by the coldness of the latter and the 
warmth of the former. This constant supply of fresh air is 
perhaps essential to the life of the inhabitants of the inner 
world ; at any rate, both vegetable and animal life must be 
languid wit In mi it. Air. there can be no doubt, is continually 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 145 

escaping, through what may be called the pores of the earth 
from the inner to the outer world : thus again returning what 
it has received. Such is the wisdom of Providence, and the 
economy of nature. 

To supply this inner world with light, another world is 
suspended in the centre. Attracted on all sides equally, this 
pure and brilliant orb appears to hang immoveable. Possibly, 
small as it comparatively is, this world too may contain ano- 
ther world within it. The diurnal rotation of our earth 
carries the inhabitants of this inner world round their sun 
in twenty-four hours ; but to all those inhabitants the sun is 
always vertical, let them be in what part of the concave globe 
they may. When the sun appeared to be before me, and 
to keep rising as I advanced, it was oidy while I was passing 
through the shell (if I may say so) of the world. As soon 
as I had entered the inner world, the sun became vertical. 
It is evident that the inner surface of this shell has been in 
some degree, though a much less one, disturbed and broken 
by the percussions which so greatly broke and deformed the 
outer one. The rocks (almost all primitive ones) have been 
in some places thrown out, and hills, though small, in many 
places raised. It will be evident to every one, that, in this 
inner world, there can be no change of seasons or of tem- 
perature, — no night : one cloudless, mild, and sunny day, 
endures for ever there. Spring, Summer, and Autumn, have 
combined to the exclusion of Winter, and are always pro- 
ducing their several stores. Heat and cold are here never 
felt : here are no earthquakes, no storms, no tempests, no 
tornadoes : here are no thunders, no lightning, no volcanoes ; 
war, pestilence, and famine, are alike unknown : from all the 



146 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

plagues of our earth the inhabitants of this blessed world are 
exempt ." 

This interior world being thus introduced to the notice of 
the Author's readers, some description of its scenery is given ; 
and the tiny winged and innocent inhabitants with whom 
he peoples it arc depicted, with their occupations and em- 
ployments. The following passage must be their introduc- 
tion here : — 

" It is totally impossible for me to convey any accurate 
idea by words, of the busy, brilliant, and interesting scene 
which presented itself to me as I sat or stood at the door of 
my verdant bower, — thousands of those living beings, in all 
the colours of the rainbow, moving in every direction in the 
air, others on the ground, and as many treading the placid 
lake, almost without disturbing it; while those in the air 
over it were reflected sailing with expanded wings far 
beneath — the sun continually shining upon and enlivening 
the whole. Add to this, the constant sound of singing and 
musical instruments from all the three elements, with the view 
of a cloudless sky, a pure atmosphere, and a more lovely, ex- 
tensive, and brilliant landscape than any human eye ever 
beheld, and the effect may in some degree be imagined, though 
it cannot be described. In all earthly assemblages, however 
gay they may appear, we know that the gaiety is often 
but in appearance; we know that all evil passions, all human 
miseries, are there congregated, — here all were in reality, as 
pure, as happy, and as good as they seemed to be. The 
heart which beheld and considered all this could not but 
rejoice. 

The interest and beauty at times was still further 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 147 

heightened, when they formed themselves into parties for the 
purpose of exhibiting different feats of activity; probably 
several thousands of them would assemble, while all the rest 
were seated on the banks and islands, as spectators, and 
musical bands. The thousands, or whatever number it 
might be, would soar a little above the water, till they 
formed a regular horizontal circle, or rather a great 
number of circles, one within the other, a single person 
being in the centre. This central one gradually rose, the 
innermost circle followed a little below him, — then the next 
circle, till all but the outer one had risen : they then formed 
a lofty, large, inverted cone of circles, every one of which 
had its own appropriate colour. This was seen reversed, 
even more lovely, in the water. After a while, the centre, 
from the top, began to sink, the lower circle began to rise, 
and in a minute the cone was seen completely reversed, 
both in the air and in the water. Keeping the same posi- 
tion, they gradually rose, the musicians playing below a 
particularly solemn affecting air, while those who were as- 
cending joined with their voices in words ecoially solemn 
and plaintive. The beautiful cone thus gradually and 
slowly rose, till themselves and their voices gradually faded 
on the straining and delighted eye and ear. When almost 
out of sight, they formed themselves into an irradiated sun, 
every ray of a different colour — the natural sun, to those 
immediately under them, forming the centre, which was left 
open for that purpose. In this beautiful form they descended 
to a livelier air of the musicians, which they all accompanied 
with their voices. When near the water, they all shot off 
with the utmost swiftness in every direction. 

" Another time I was told they were going to exhibit 



1 1 8 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

their ingenuity and agility on a still larger scale, which ex- 
hibition I was requested to witness. I was therefore pre- 
pared to expect something a little extraordinary even in 
them. 

On going out of my bower, I was surprised with the 
sight of an assemblage in the air much more numerous than 
1 had ever vet witnessed ; the sun and the sky were almost 
obscured by them. On my reaching the sea-shore, they 
began to collect over the water, and by degrees they as- 
sumed the form of two most immense horizontal plains, 
consisting, as before, of innumerable circles, one within the 
other, each circle of its own peculiar colour. Each of the 
extreme circles must have been more than a hundred yards 
in diameter, and they were nearly that distance from each 
other; the upper one beiug directly over the other. The 
effect, both in the air and in the water, with all their pure 
white wings in motion, and glittering in the sun's rays, 
cannot be easily imagined, especially when the two circular 
plains began to turn in contrary directions to a very plain- 
tive air; while they all either played or sung. While they 
were doing this, I observed the outer circle of the upper 
plain began to descend, followed by the next, and so on 
towards the centre, winch remained stationary; at the same 
time, the outer circle of the lowest plain began to rise, 
followed by the next, and so on towards the centre, which 
likewise remained stationary. Presently the whole had 
assumed a spherical form, resembling an immense and most 
beautiful balloon, consisting of different coloured circles, 
and the whole glittering with the flutter of brilliant white 
wings. 

After a while the singing ceased, and, in an instant, all 



SELECT REMAINS OE SAMUEL ROBERTS. 149 

was still as death. Solemnly the majestic balloon de- 
scended till the bottom appeared just to rest upon the *pure, 
level, transparent surface of the wide-extended sea. It 
moved silently and slowly along it. The reflected figure 
was, if possible, even more beautiful than the real one. 
My sensations became almost exquisitely painful. There 
was a - sublimity accompanying the whole that almost over- 
came me. Presently the softest and most pleasingly plain- 
tive melody seemed to move over the unruffled surface of 
the watery plain, strongly affecting the senses, though 
scarcely striking the ear. To that music, the self-moving, 
sublimely beautiful globe, slowly and solemnly rose ; while 
its still more lovely prototype, as slowly, and as solemnly, 
descended in the pellucid atmosphere below. They thus 
rose and fell, till they each began to diminish and fade 
away, and the faintly heard music seemed to come from 
heaven. 

As I stood alone upon the earth, I was insensibly moved 
to tears ; I felt my inferiority, both in goodness and happi- 
ness, too strongly, to permit me to repress, those feelings 
which truly humbled me. As I thus stood on the sea-shore, 
silently and awfully looking up at the small and now faintly 
seen living balloon, which appeared as if ascending into 
heaven, — while the sweet and solemn music was scarcely 
heard, — the air was suddenly changed to a livelier one, and 
the music became louder. 

The balloon, I saw, was descending more quickly than it 
rose. It Avas approaching directly over my head, and came 
down till the centre cherub (for such it seemed) almost 
touched me. Pour or five of the innermost bottom circles 
then dispersed in the inside of the balloon, leaving a cir- 



150 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

cular opening of about three yards diameter. When I 
looked up at the vast and lovely concave sphere, the sun 
shining through and between their perpetually-moving pure 
white wings, and illuminating their various-coloured mantles, 
the effect was inconceivably striking and beautiful. 

I was now astonished to see one of the circles from the 
uppermost centre, consisting of about a hundred of the lovely 
cherubs, for such I must call them, descending with some- 
thing like a hammock, suspended far below them by strings, 
one of which each of them held. This was let clown before 
me. It was formed of light wicker-work, lined with the 
same stuff as their clothing, and seemed neatly and inge- 
niously made. My friend now came to me, and requested 
me to step into the hammock, in which I could either sit or 
lie down. I saw at once their design, and did not hesitate 
to evince my confidence, by complying with my friend's 
request. As soon as I was seated, my bearers rose, without 
difficulty, to the station which they had quitted, and I hung 
nearly in the centre of the brilliant, spacious balloon, which 
was now complete, the opening at the bottom being again 
filled by those who had left it. The balloon now moved 
slowly a considerable way over the water, and then, to the 
soft solemn tune winch had been sung before, we all slowly 
rose together in the air. 

I will not attempt to describe either the appearance of my 
magnificent living ctherial palace, or my undescribable sen- 
sations, as we rose from the earth, accompanied by the most 
celestial music, towards heaven. The reader may try to 
imagine them, but he will ivy in vain. I cannot tell how 
high we rose, for I was too much absorbed in admiration to 
pay attention to it. At length, however, we stopped, and 






SELECT REMAINS OE SAMUEL ROBERTS. 151 

the music ceased. In a few minutes, the cherubs forming 
the lower half of the balloon had all left their stations, and 
in a few minutes more had formed larger circles below the 
bottom of the upper half, which widened its diameter, so 
that I now hung from the centre of an immense parasol, the 
outer diameter of which could not be less than two hundred 
yards. The bottom circle was considerably lower than where 
I hung, and seemed to me to extend almost to the now 
greatly distant horizon. 

A while we remained stationary in solemn silence : I looked 
above me, around me, and below me, with undescribable 
astonishment. Another similar world of wonders seemed to 
lie beneath, where another glittering, ever-moving, living 
parasol lay, reversed, at an immeasurable distance. I sat lost 
in bewildering admiration, when, in an instant, a crash of 
the loudest music that I ever heard them produce, aroused 
my attention ; the air was almost approaching to the martial. 
At the same moment all their sashes were unloosed, every 
one spreading them and waving them to catch the rays of 
the sun, which rendered their brilliant transparency still 
more beautiful. At the same instant every circle began to 
move round, each alternate one in a different direction, pro- 
ducing a far more lively, regular irregularity and confusion 
than can possibly be conceived. Thus we slowly descended, 
while our lovely prototype beneath as gradually ascended to 
meet us. * * ■* 

■*■*•* I can never forget the astonishment and ecs- 
tacy which the little strangers evinced on their first entrance 
into this world of beauty and delight. I have often wit- 
nessed it with the strongest interest and enjoyment. With 
all their faculties perfect, with a clear perception, and ardent 



152 4.1 TOBIOGRAJHI AND 

feeling, of the unbounded, alimented, goodness of their God, 
they look around them with undisscrnbled rapture and un- 
alloyed bliss. After having received their simple robe, and 
bound it round their loins, they spread their untried wings, 
and, soaring from the ground, enraptured join the band 
which, high in air, chaunted aloud their Maker's praise. 

* * * I had little preparation to make for my long 
aerial excursion. I was ready to depart, when my friend 
came to tell me that his departure was at hand. I had per- 
ceived that Ms filmy wings had attained their full growth. 
I can never forget the pure sweetness of his beautiful and 
expressive countenance. There was a heavenliness in it that 
I had never before perceived even in one of theirs. He 
wished me to witness his ascent. I felt for a moment a 
deadening dullness run through my frame. My heart was 
oppressed. I rested a little while in mental prayer, and my 
serenity returned. I went out with him. Thousands of thou- 
sands, and tens of thousands of thousands of beings peopled 
the air. My friend desired me to hold out my hand. He sprung 
into it; my tears flowed apace. He smiled upon me, then 
stretching all his four wings, (the filmy ones had neveivbefore 
been opened,) he rose majestically through the circular 
opening which the assembled multitude had left for him in 
the middle. I looked up, — he was in the centre of the 
sun ; slowly he continued to ascend ; accompanying myriads 
rose with him : one universal hymn, accompanied with in- 
numerable instruments of music, spread throughout the pure 
blue heavenly dome. I was left alone upon the earth. 
Higher and higher arose the celestial choir ; softer and softer, 
sweeter and sweeter, sounded the heavenly strains. The 
multitude became as a cloud, they ceased to be perceptible; 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 153 

the music was heard no more, all was silent, all was solitude : 
my heart sunk within me : I felt my inferiority to the beings 
among whom I was placed, most strongly. I retired, de- 
pressed and humbled, to my verdant habitation ; I prayed for 
aid, I read my Bible, I slept in peace, and awoked refreshed. 
All was now ready for my proposed aerial voyage : with 
my pocket compass to direct our course, I laid myself at 
full length in my soft and gay hammock : my lovely carriers 
arranged themselves in a circle : millions were on the wing : 
slowly and majestically we arose, and sailed amidst a choir 
of tens of thousands over the sleeping mirror spread below. 
I looked down, and beheld the gay and busy multitude, 
which no one could number, reflected very far beneath, with 
more than their original beauty. A softer sky, a milder 
sun, were sleeping there; numerous verdant isles studded 
the clear expanse, suspended, as it seemed, in midway air 
between two azure concave domes; the isles themselves, 
on either side, adorned with shrubs and trees, with flowers 
and fruit. Loud strains of never-ceasing praise and adora- 
tion filled the wide cloudless concave globe : my heart could 
not but swell with rapture, gratitude, and love." * * * 

It is not likely that in this little story there, is a single 
word of imitation, — they who knew its author may well say 
that imitation was impossible to his nature ; its general 
scheme may, nevertheless, remind the reader of Swift, as the 
wild romance of the gibbet-scene in " Tom and Charles'' 
may be compared to some parts of Scott's novels, which its 
author had never read. 

In two of Mr. Roberts's visits to London, one of them 
h 2 



I"»l AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

occurring, it is supposed, in 1S30, and the other in 1831, 
he witnessed the contrasted scenes which he thus describes 
in an occasional pamphlet published in 1832. 

" A little more than eighteen months ago I was in London. 
Everything relating to this nation appeared then to be 
splendid and flourishing, beyond — far beyond — any former 
precedent. We were the admiration, the envy, of every 
other nation in the world. I stood before the balcony of 
that palace-like mansion, Apsley House, on the morning the 
King and Queen were going to breakfast there with the 
Duke of Wellington. The sun shone forth in unclouded 
majesty, brilliancy, and power. To my left hand stood the 
colossal statue erected to commemorate the unprecedented 
victories of the then entertainer of royalty. To my left was 
the splendid triumphal arch, just finished, to remind Britain 
that Trance had not been allowed to subject this country, as 
she had doue almost all others, by either fraud or arms. * * 
An immense crowd of all classes was assembled. The 
balcony was filled with nobility of both sexes and of all 
ages, from Prince George to the Great Duke ; and on the 
arrival of the King and Queen enthusiastic applause could 
hardly be carried to a greater height. It was a scene, with 
all its accompaniments, such as the world, never since the 
Creation, I will venture to say, looked upon. It was, it 
struck me at time, the ne plus ultra of worldly splendour 
and prosperity. I feared that a reverse must come. It 
appeared an edifice too great for the foundation on which it 
stood. 

I was in the same place twelve months afterwards. 1 
stood under the triumphal arch. The sun was obscured by 
black dense clouds. The thunder crashed over our heads as 



SELECT REMAINS OT SAMUEL ROBERTS. 155 

if it would shake the proud arch to atoms. The lightnings 
flashed around us, as if they would destroy the world. The 
rain poured down in torrents, as if the universal deluge was 
to be repeated ; when, amidst this uproar of elements, the 
King, in his travelling carriage, accompanied by three noble- 
men to protect him, dashed, with almost the velocity of 
lightning itself, through the arch, to escape from the execra- 
tions, if nothing worse, of those very people who, a year 
before, were ready to fall down and worship him. 

The Queen, the idolized Queen, dared not to accompany 
her husband. That good woman, that unassuming sove 
reign, that affectionate relative, could neither be protected 
by her sex, her virtues, nor her rank, from the effects of the 
misled ignorance and brutality of her own subjects. Apsley 
House stood where it was, but it was dark and gloomy as 
the mansions of the dead. The windows were closed up 
with black iron shutters, and death-like silence seemed to 
reign throughout. All this was awfully instructive. 

A few days afterwards, on the 18th of June, I saw the 
owner of that palace. He, before whom armies, nations, and 
empires, nay, the subduer, too, of empires, had a few short 
years before stood in astonishment and self-abasement. He, 
whom the United Kingdoms had hailed as the earthly saviour 
of the empire. He, who was the unconquered conqueror of 
conquerors. He, to whom monarchs had paid homage, — 
him I saw, on the anniversary of that day on which the 
victory of victories was obtained by him, the victory winch 
the world hailed as the harbinger of universal freedom, the 
restorer of peace, the destroyer of tyrannical oppression. I 
saw the conquering hero on the anniversary of that glorious 
day, in the midst of that metropolis, — the metropolis of the 



156 AtTOHIOGIlAPIIY AND 

world, — which, for anything that I knew to the contrary, he 
had been the instrument of saving from destruction. I saAV 
him in that city, on that day, surrounded and followed 
by an immense concourse of its inhabitants, whom, probably, 
he might have rescued from vassalage. And how was he 
received and treated by them ? He had placed himself, un- 
attended but by a single servant, with confidence amongst 
them. He was hooted, and hissed, and groaned at, and 
pelted. His life was greatly endangered, and had he been 
a malefactor of the lowest description, guilty of, and con- 
demned for a barbarous murder, he could not, he would not, 
have been so execrated and persecuted. And what had 
been his alleged fault ? At the worst, a mistaken opinion, 
which he had the manliness to avow : and this is popu- 
larity !" 

In the month of April, 1833, with two associates from 
Sheffield, Mr. Roberts went up to town, among the number 
of those who, obedient to the summons of the " Fiery 
Cross," (so styled in the Times newspaper,) were delegated 
by the Provincial Anti- Slavery Associations to wait on the 
Ministers antecedently to the enactment of decisive mea- 
sures on the subject of British Colonial Slavery. On the 
18th was their audience with the Ministry, and on that day- 
he completed his seventieth year. On the 17th he thus 
writes : — 

" I have for years, at times, looked forward to to- 
morrow with serious awe, but I little thought how and 
where I should then be employed. 

" I shall have gained the highest ridge of the hill of life, 
beyond which must be downwards towards the dark valley. 
I am the only one of my early companions who has gained 






SELECT EEMAINS OP SAMUEL EGBERTS. 157 

it. I have not been accustomed to be behind-hand with 
any thing, and I hope that I shall not be so now in setting 
my house in order, and in trying to prepare to quit." 

Ever prompt in what he believed to be the cause of 
the oppressed, — bearing a brother's sympathy for the 
wrongs and afflictions of the poor, and once brought, in 
the office of Overseer, in the closest contact with the 
pauper poor of England, — the proposed enactment of the 
New Poor Law Bill formed an epoch in the existence of 
the subject of this memoir. Suffering at the time from 
the effect of a fall from Ins horse, which appeared to 
have given a shock to his constitution, with nerves new- 
strung, and sinews new-braced, he roused himself for the 
conflict. Henceforth, among the numerous subjects of poli- 
tical and social interest which still continued to occupy his 
thoughts and his pen, this was always uppermost; — pre- 
eminently from this time he became, as he styled himself, 
the Pauper s Advocate, He regarded the deprecated 
measure as the signal of his country's declension, as he 
ever regarded the Poor Laws, as originally enacted, the 
instrument, under Providence, of her elevation in the scale 
of nations. The title of a pamphlet which he published 
on this subject while the Bill was in agitation, bears evi- 
dence, no less than its contents, to these views of the 
writer: being England's Passing Bell; or, the Obsequies 
of National Holiness, Liberty, and Honour, humbly 
addressed to the King, as the guardian of the religious and 
political rights of the people. The following passages are 
extracted from it : — 

* * * " This, I apprehend, is the first time that any 



158 (BIOGRAPHY AND 

man has ever dared to stand up in either House of Parlia- 
ment, and denounce the Poor Laws of Elizabeth as bad 
laws. The intruders themselves of this amending Act, as 
it is called, admitted the original laws themselves to be 
excellent, only condemning the execution in some parti- 
cular parishes. * * * 

*• * # <c 'Will his Lordship venture to assert that these 
glorious laws, which the united wisdom of the present 
Administration (with the old laws, and the experience of 
more than two centuries to aid them) have concocted, or 
are trying to concoct, will, after being acted upon for two 
hundred and forty years, be found to be in themselves 
equally good ? I think that even his lordship will not 
assert this. But his Lordship did assert that those good 
old laws had entailed on the people of this country dreadful 
miseries. Perhaps his Lordship conceives that his own 
modest assertion is sufficient to establish the fact. I shall, 
however, require more. I shall ask, were the people (par- 
ticularly the poor) of this country, afflicted with fewer 
miseries before the passing of those Acts, than they have 
been since ; or rather than they are now ? His Lordship is 
not on his oath : I will take his reply on his word of 
honour. But I have other questions to ask. There were 
in those days many other states of Europe, the people of 
which were not then suffering more miseries than the 
people here were. They all escaped the dreadful infliction 
of our Poor Laws, and indeed, with the exception of Scot- 
land, any Poor Laws at all. Now then, will his Lordship 
assert that the people here are in a more miserable state 
than the people of those different states ? I must bog of his 
Lordship just to recur either to his memory or to Ins map, 



SELECT REMAINS OP SAMUEL ROBERTS. 159 

and then say in how many of those countries the people 
(especially the poor) are better off than in England. In how 
many? What, not in one ? What, not in Holland, — not in 
Germany, — not in Switzerland, — in Italy, — in France ? No ! 
no ! nor in Portugal; nor even in Spain itself ! Why, this 
is strange ! Perhaps Algiers, or Turkey, might have been 
in his Lordship's head ? because the happy idea of appointing 
nine-tailed bashaws as Poor-Law Commissioners must have 
had its origin there. Well then, after all, it seems the 
people of this country are not only happier than they ever 
were before we had Poor Laws, but also happier than those 
of Poor-Lawless Ireland, or than those of any other 
country in the world : perhaps as happy as they must ever 
expect to be ; because I know, and probably his Lordship 
does, that the Scriptures affirm (an affirmation which I shall 
credit before his Lordship's) that the poor will never cease 
out of the land. They do not, however, assert that Lords 
shall not. 

" His Lordship may perhaps instance Scotland as a coun- 
try where the people are happier than they are here. I 
deny the assertion. They approach the nearest to us in 
that respect : but why ? I will tell his Lordship ; not be- 
cause they had Poor Laws (which is the fact) before we 
had, for the state of the country was such as precluded the 
exercise of them. No ! it was because at the Union this 
country opened a market, not so much for their manufac- 
tures as for their people. There was then, in that article, 
both demand and supply. What were the labouring people 
of Scotland before then ? They were poor and filthy, and 
diseased, and miserable, and naked. To approach a poor 
Scotchman then was thought as dangerous as going into a 



160 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

lazaretto ; but England, oppressed with Poor Laws, 
showed them, and convinced them, that they might become 
different beings, and they soon supplied us plentifully with 
dwarf black-horned cattle, and huge, brawny, half-starved 
Highlanders, -without a bawbee in their pouches; but they 
were hard-working, honest fellows. Hundreds of them 
pounced in upon us, carrying a whole shop (stock and all) 
on their backs, day after day, for many a weary mile, and 
they all (or almost all) prospered, and became less miserable. 
They had long had free schools in Scotland, — till then 
little regarded, — but when a market offered itself for 
scholars, learning was acquired by thousands, who, fur- 
nished with persevering industry, a Bible, and a little oat- 
meal (which they found to be like the widow's), left their 
father's house in the land of cakes, never to return, and 
sought this land of poor rates and miserable abundance. 
These, too, prospered, acquiring comforts, riches, and some 
of them honours. So have they gone on, always coming, 
— the footmarks, as to the lion's den, being all in one 
direction. 

How, then, will his Lordship assert that the comparison 
is a fair one ? We furnish Scotland with riches, and we 
take to their poor; but with all these advantages, I know 
that their poor are now poorer, very much poorer, than ours 
arc. 

Where, then, I ask, does his Lordship find his miserable 
beings in England ? Where they will always be found in 
all countries — among the idle, the licentious, and the turbu- 
lent. His Lordship may likewise, perhaps, have found some, 
of late years, even of a different character, in agricultural 
districts. But to talk of the distress of the labourers in 



SELECT REMAINS OE SAMUEL ROBERTS. 161 

these last instances being caused by the Poor Rates, is to 
talk like worse than idiots ; for it is to talk like self-inte- 
rested, designing men, who know better. The truth of 
the matter is this : the real cause of all this dreadful alarm 
and precipitancy among the legislators of both Houses of 
Parliament is, not that they care for the poor, but because 
they carry the bag ; and the war {unfortunately) has left 
them with the bag to hold. His Lordship told this truth : 
" My Lords," said he, " if you do not pass this bill, your 
estates will not long be yours; I would not ensure them 
till the next session." Truth will out ! A bill to benefit 
the poor ! Why the declared object, from the very first, 
has been to lessen the amount paid in relieving the poor ; 
and yet, out of that reduced amount, three or four hundred 
agents of one kind or other are first to be paid salaries, 
many of them from one to two thousand pounds a year, 
while new workhouses are to be erected throughout the land. 
*■ * * a Now, then, the whole truth is, that, during 
the war, landlords, in consequence of the high price of corn, 
had been able and willing to double or treble their rents ; 
but when corn came down to the former prices, the land- 
lords (having increased their expenditure) could not, or 
would not, lower their rents to the peace scale ; tenants have, 
therefore, during almost twenty years, been struggling for 
existence, — many, very many, have sunk under it, and the 
rest are fast followiug. They, then, could not employ 
labourers, and labourers could not starve. The tenants, 
then, as well as the landlords, (with short-sighted policy) 
winked at the infringement of the Poor Laws, and with the 
concurrence of magistrates suffered wages to be paid out of 
the rates. Now, then, how were the Poor Laws to blame 
in this case ? The fact is, that it is the landlords who 



IG'Z AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

want relief for themselves; they, in reality, are now the 

poor. Why his Lordship should be so much alarmed, I 
can hardly tell. His other estates may not, perhaps, produce 
so much as usual, but the one on which his Lordship sits 
in the house may keep his Lordship, I presume, from all 
danger of famishing. 

It may be asked, what relief can the new bill afford to 
the poor landlords ? Why this is rather a puzzling 
question, because it must increase instead of diminishing 
the amount of rates. I have endeavoured to penetrate it : 
but though I think at times that I can see a tolerable way 
into a mill-stone, I have not been able to see quite through 
tins block. I have, however, found out that the framers 
and supporters of this bill don't much mind what points of 
it they give up, so that the;/ can hut keep the Commis- 
sioners, with all their attendant train, safe, and pos- 
sesssed of all their despotic powers. This, then, I 
conceive, is to be the instrument to be employed in affording 
relief to the poor ; that is, to the poor landlords. This 
clearly is the intention. That the promoters of the bill will 
be disappointed in the result, is most certain ; for however 
the Commissioners may be disposed to favour the agricul- 
turists in the exercise of the despotic power with which they 
are to be armed, they can never make up, even to them, 
the enormous additional expense which must be incurred in 
providing and maintaining the extensive and expensive 
machinery. 

When his Lordship talks of the Poor Lairs having 
brought all property (I suppose landed property) into a 
state bordering on destruction, lean only conclude that his 
Lordship, by some cause or oilier, has been brought into a 
State bordering on distraction. The landlords may now, if 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL "ROBERTS. 163 

they please, let their lands for a net rent as high as they 
could before the French Bevolution. That during forty 
years they have been enabled to obtain more, has been a 
gain to them, but they had no right to reckon on a con- 
tinuance of such advance. They, then, will be no worse 
off than they were before, and they were then much better 
off than they had ever been till then. 

Are, then, the paupers now extravagantly paid ? I say 
no ! They are not, through the kingdom, receiving more, 
individually, than they were then; nor than they ought to 
do. Notwithstanding the wages paid (contrary to law) in 
some agricultural districts, and the enormous sums squan- 
dered in metropolitan parishes — as in Mary leb one, — the 
aggregate of rates has not increased more than the increase 
in population has done. Surely, then, the estates of the 
poor Lord Chancellor are yet worth having ! I will venture 
to say, that if his Lordship could, and would, put up his 
estates to a fair competition in the course of the next month, 
he would be able to obtain as much for them as they could 
have been sold for forty years ago. 

!Por what in the world, then, is his Lordship and his 
brother legislators endeavouring to turn the whole country 
upside clown ? For what are they going to poke their gave- 
locks under the corner-stones of religion, morality, and 
humanity ? "Why are they going to destroy the foundation 
of British liberty — based on known and equal laws ? Is 
his Lordship to be told that freedom cannot exist where the 
laws are not fixed and known ? 

* * * I affirm that the poor, the pauper poor, have 
as great a right to their legal possessions as the lords have 
to theirs. The latter are only paupers on a larger scale. 



164 -M roBlOGRAPHt AND 

They arc all supported out of the surplus labour of the 
people, — I grant, intended for the good of the whole. But 
if the arms (for they arc not the head) say to the feet, we 
have no need of you, and proceed to strip thern of their 
shoes, leaving them naked, lacerated, and bleeding, I thiuk 
thai the latter would be justified in kicking up a great dust 
on the occasion, and in ceasing to carry the arms, and even 
in trying to bring them down from their high estates. His 
Lordship talks of the benefit that %&Agrarian law would now 
be to their Lordships, compared to the present state. I will 
not ask if his Lordship was sober, but if he was sane? If 
the people do not complain, the aristocracy, I am sure, 
ought to be thankful. 

The rights of the poor are divine rights. God hath 
decreed, " the poor shall never cease out of the land ;" they 
must, then, have a maintenance afforded to them there. 
The Bible, too, is replete with injunctions to provide for 
them. Ts T ow, our Poor Laws, in conformity with these Divine 
laws, only secure them a maintenance : this security, the 
proposed law, which his Lordship insists upon, takes away, 
lodging the will to grant or to withhold in the breasts of the 
hired servants of men, whose hearts may be as hard as the 
nether millstone; who, when the perishing ask for bread, 
may give them a stone. 

*■ * * Now, then, what originated the rights of the 
privileged orders ? The will and the wisdom of a despotic 
monarch. The whole land was the King's, but it was too 
large a concern for one man individually to superintend and 
govern. Wiser than the rulers of these days, he sought not 
concentration, but to divide and apportion. He knew that 
small districts Mould be better and more easily governed 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 165 

than large ones. He therefore divided the country, and 
allotted the greater portion of it to his favourites, as lord- 
ships or baronies. But these were not as gifts, they were 
only let to them on, perhaps, perpetual leases, as farms on 
stipulated rents to be paid to the king. Those rents were 
various ; all of the occupants, however, were to maintain 
their own poor. But they had much more to pay than this. 
They had to provide, to clothe, to arm, and to maintain (in 
peace as well as war,) soldiers, both foot and horse, to be 
ready whenever the king should require them, either for de- 
fensive or offensive war. Even these were only a part of 
the rent which the privileged orders had to pay ; but these, 
however, will suffice to show the nature of the rights of 
lords. They were a grant from man on specific terms ; and 
after maintaining every human being on his estate, and fur- 
nishing all the requisite military aid (his own included) to 
his sovereign, the residue would be but small, sometimes 
less than nothing. 

The country, then, in those times, had neither poor rates 
nor war taxes. The Lords had individually to provide for 
both, while their estates (allowing even for the difference in 
the value of money,) were probably not of the tenth part of 
their present value. What man gives, the laws of man can 
take away. The land was so divided, and so let, for the 
good of the whole, and so long as the tenants, or Lords, act 
conducively to the good of the whole, they may talk of 
rights, — but no longer ; for as they were the product of a 
breath, a breath can annihilate them. 

The events of the last half century have produced an awful 
instance of the truth above stated : and what led to the 



16G AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

horrible catastrophe ? The forsaking of their God by the 
higher orders, and the oppression of the poor. The same 
period, too, has witnessed the attempt, the seemingly suc- 
cessful attempt, on a large scale, of doing entirely without 
the privileged orders. Both these events strongly call on 
those orders, in this country, not to afford just grounds of 
dissatisfaction to the people, who have now not only to 
provide their share of a maintenance for the poor, but have 
likewise to contribute to furnish and maintain both the Army 
and Navy. 

I have defended the privileged orders when it was neither 
pleasant nor safe so to do, and I am now seeking to promote 
their best interests ; but my endeavours without theirs will 
be in vain. 

The Lord Chancellor has likewise affirmed, that the Poor 
Laws have " brought ruin on the characters of the lower 
orders." I am almost ashamed of offering a refutation of 
such an assertion. Is it possible that Ins Lordship can believe 
that the characters of the lower orders in this kingdom are 
worse, generally speaking, than they were before the passing 
of these laws ? Though his Lordship should have seen much 
more of the vilely depraved than the highly respectable part 
of the lower orders, still he cannot, even from them, draw 
fairly the conclusion that he has done ; but taking them 
generally there is not a shadow of comparison. He may 
affirm (for a man may affirm anything,) that they would 
have been still better without them. The lower classes, as 
before observed, in other kingdoms were at that time as 
orderly as they were here. Those kingdoms (Scotland ex- 
cepted, where they are as much improved as here,) have 



SELECT REMAINS OE SAMUEL ROBERTS. 167 

continued without poor laws ; are, then, the lower classes in 
any one of them as much improved since then as they are 
here ? Let his Lordship reply ! 

Hear the orator again. " England, at this moment, under 
the operation of those poor laws, exhibits a country where 
there i?, peace without plenty, profound outward tranquillity 
with constant inward disturbance, and rancour between the 
two great classes, the labourers and the affluent." Does 
this display anything of the sober reasoning of a man of 
sense, the candour of the gentleman, the learning of the 
scholar, the discernment of the statesman, the gravity of the 
judge, the dignity of the nobleman, the solemnity of the 
Lord High Chancellor, or the truth as proceeding from the 
keeper of the King's conscience ? When, since the creation, 
I would ask his Lordship, was there plenty in England, if 
not at this moment ?"■**# 

"His Lordship seems to have been in the House of Lords 
on this occasion, like the sculptured man triumphing over and 
bestriding the prostrate lion. Let him, however, recollect 
that he himself rode into that house on the back of that very 
lion. Let him likewise beware of carrying the joke too far. 
With gentle treatment, the noble animal will bear much ; 
but, once aroused by insult or oppression, he will prove 
more than a match for even the Lord Chancellor himself." 

If, after the lapse of fourteen years, the aspect of the 
affairs of this country, with the intervening course of events, 
be compared with the anticipation and prediction above ex- 
pressed, they will, at least, not be found at variance with 
them ; at any rate, their writer saw, or thought he saw, the 
decline of his country from the point from which he had 



16S AUTOBJOCKAI'IIY AND 

foreseen it, and found, or thought he found, the working of 
tin syst< in, so far as it fell under his observation, to be what 
he had anticipated. From his first views of the subject, 
therefore, he never deviated. 

On occasion of one of Mr. Roberts's solitary peregrina- 
tions in Derbyshire, he composed the following lines : — 



DOVE-DALE EVENING MEDITATIONS. 

Tell me, thou ever lovely, moaning Dove, 

If here thou seek'st thy long-lost mated love ? 

Sweet plaintive mourner ! well this peaceful vale 

Is suited to thy state and constant wail, 

A place congenial to thy widowed heart, 

From. w r orldly mirth and. vanities apart. 

Unbroken solitude here ever reigns, 

Unbroken silence, save by warbled strains ; 

Perpetual gloom his residence has made 

In tins secluded dell — perpetual shade. 

E'en yonder rugged hill — with rocks o'er spread, 

Which heath, and furze, and broom, have made their bed, 

Though sun illumined — only serves to throw 

A denser shadow o'er the dale below. 

Yon massive towers, uprising from the stream, 

(Like that of old) assailing heaven seem ; 

Buttress by buttress stands, ranged side by side, 

To prop the cloud-capt mountain in its pride. 



Oh ! I do love thee much, thou gentle Dove, 
I love thy cooing, and thy plaint I love; 






SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 169 

In any place I should delight to meet 
A Dove like thee, and hear such accents sweet; 
But here I love thee best, in this calm shade, 
That seems for holy contemplation made." 

But mourn not ever here, thou timid Dove, 
Now let me plead the cause of other love ; 
The love of one affectionate and bold, 
The tried, intrepid, merry Manifold. 
I know he loves, and seeks thee for his bride ; 
He no intruder : let me be thy guide. 
Come, cease thy grief, thy unavailing wail, 
I know he waits thy coming down the Dale, 

The system of employing children in manufactories 
(especially through a lengthened term of hours) had, from 
the time when he first took a part in public affairs, the 
opposition of Mr. Roberts's life. 

The pacific principles of his latter years must not pass 
unnoticed here. Though in youth a staunch supporter of 
the administration of William Pitt, the principles main- 
tained by the Society for the Promotion of Permanent and 
Universal Peace — principles, armed by which William Penn 
went forth to colonise the desert, amid hoards of wandering 
savages — principles, the mere- proposing of which is like a 
touch from the Ithuriel's spear of truth, and their more 
general adoption in society, not only on Christian, but on 
the broadest ground of reason and expediency, among the 
signs in these latter days of the approach of a period when 
men shall beat their swords into ploughshares, and their 
spears into pruning hooks ; these principles were interwoven 
with the creed of his latter years. 



1 7 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

Tn the month of January L840j Mr. Roberts was 
attacked with erysipelas in the head, of a highly virulent 
nature. When this was at the height his recovery was con- 
sidered hopeless: but, after a few days, the disease gra- 
dually subsided, and the restoration of his health and 
strength was anxiously looked for. He left his bed and 
walked to an adjoining apartment; but the effort availed 
not; for six weeks he gradually sunk — sunk to the extre- 
mity of weakness. Here is not the place to withdraw the 
veil from his couch of helplessness and suffering : suffice it 
to say, that to those who surrounded it, there was a veil 
withdrawn — he was never known till then : then, on the 
borders of the tomb and the brink of eternity, the reserve 
at once natural and habitual to him, the dictate both of 
his principle and disposition, melted, and was gone : then, 
for the first time, he spoke freely and without reserve of the 
kindness and love of his Heavenly Father, of the eternity 
whither he was bound, and his own joy and peace in 
believing. 

For two months he continued extremely debilitated : yet 
he began to sit up a little at times. On the 18th of April 
he completed Iris seventy-seventh } r ear. On that day (the 
preceding was Good Friday), as he sat at the open window, 
he inquired if it was not his birth-day ? " Yesterday," he 
said, " my Saviour died for me ; and now, perhaps, I shall 
live a short new life on earth — but not to the world : I am 
dead to that." 

Ere long he got his horses in training for the carriage, 
and while no material alteration had taken place in his 
pulse, or any hope of his recovery been given by his medical 
attendant, at the supposed hazard of his life he was carried 



SELECT REMAINS OE SAMUEL ROBERTS. 171 

to it, fixing a time (about two hours) for his return. There 
is reason to think that when the hour was come at which he 
was to set out, he (though outwardly calm in the presence 
of others) experienced considerable distress of mind; but 
he looked where he always looked for help — to his Heavenly 
Father. In the carriage his vivacity returned. The servant 
who rode with him was even amused by the sprightliness of 
his remarks. He bore up during the ride, and just within 
the time he fixed, he returned, calm and collected, and was 
soon equal to the animated expression of his delight at 
again beholding the face of nature. He had selected his 
favourite ride, down the valley conducting to the Abbey of 
Beauchief. " He could not," he said, " have conceived a 
change such as had taken place since he last rode down that 
valley — from naked twigs to the full luxuriance of vegeta- 
tion. It made him long to be a gypsy, and enter a house 
no more." 

When, after this ride, his physician came with the inten- 
tion of seeing him, he was asleep, and, in consequence, two 
days elapsed ere he received a medical visit. His pulse had 
then subsided about fourteen beats. 

Thenceforward he was gradually restored from that bed 
which he considered, he said, " a little sacred tabernacle/' 
to the enjoyment of life, and some share of its active duties. 

This work commenced with an account of his character 
and feelings in the earlier period of his life, from his own 
pen; and now, at the commencement of that "short new 
life" (a period of eight years), which, in a manner so much 
out of the usual course of events, was indeed accorded to 
him, some interest may attach to the following passage from 
his own pen also, being part of a letter to a valued friend 



172 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

and pastor, now departed. It will show, among other 
things, the principle on which he practised that reserve on 
the subject of his own religious feelings, which has been 
above alluded to, as habitual with him. 

Pure and spiritual religion (and there is no other 
religion) is rarely either acquired or increased but in secret 
communion between God and our own souls. It may be 
said that "of that of which the heart is full the mouth will 
speak." This is true ! Experience, however, I fear, teaches 
that when the heart is most filled Avith self-conceit and 
spiritual pride, it is most apt to talk of religion. We 
know that we are all greatly disposed to talk about, and 
force on the notice of others, that in which we think we 
ourselves the most excel. It is not so often the importance 
of the subject discussed, as of ourselves, that we seek to 
raise in the estimation of our hearers. This, however, we 
do not always perceive, and rarely suspect that others per- 
ceive it. The humble man, the broken and contrite in 
heart,the man who is really oppressed with the burden of 
his sins, will not force the subject on the attention of all 
with whom he has to do. No ; he will rather keep it from 
others, and will retire and pour out his sorrows and his tears 
where none but God can hear and see. The very mention 
of religion in public will tinge his cheeks and cast his eyes 
to the ground. He will feel too forcibly the greatness and 
the goodness of his God and Saviour, and the insignificancy 
and unworthmess of himself, to suffer him to talk with 
freedom and ease on the subject. He will, however, be the 
last to join in any conversation which has a tendency to 
treat religion lightly, and he will always be ready fearlessly 
to repress the sarcasms of the scoffer. Religion will be seen 



SELECT REMAINS OE SAMUEL ROBERTS. 173 

publicly by man in his life, and privately by God in his 
prayers and meditations. It is an important object not to 
disgust and drive away from the company of pious persons 
the young, the unfixed, and even the gay. Let the conver- 
sation be amusing as well as instructive ; generally cheerful, 
and only occasionally solemn ; and the most frivolous will 
not shun it, but may unsuspectingly be interested, and led 
themselves to walk in the paths of seriousness and piety. 

-It is with reluctance and diffidence that I proceed to 
speak at all df myself; it seems, however, to be necessary, 
and I shall not shrink from the duty, though it is probable 
that it will require all the partiality of friendship to bear 
with it. I believe that few serious men of the same age 
have ever talked less on religious subjects, or thought more 
than myself. Peculiar circumstances in very early life led 
me to feel the necessity for, and experience the power of, 
Divine grace and strength. I was soon led to a firm con- 
viction that the Scriptures alone contained the revealed 
Word of God — that the Holy Spirit alone was the true 
expounder of that Word, and that he would explain it to 
every one, whether learned or unlearned, who earnestly 
applied to God for that wisdom which is from above. 
Hence I have ever been led to look to the Scriptures alone 
as a sure and unerring guide. I believed them capable of 
being at least as clearly understood by the unlearned as by 
the learned. Thus believing, it has been my constant 
practice to subject all that I have heard, and all that I have 
read, on religious subjects, to the test of the Scriptures. 
Hence it may be conceived that my religious sentiments 
will not be in exact conformity to those of any denomina- 
tion of professing Christians ; accordingly they do, I believe, 



IT I AUTOBIOGRAPHY AM> 

in some respects differ from nil of whom I have any knowledge. 
I have never, however, been forward to obtrude them on the 
notice of others. I believed them to be just, and therefore 
I could -not but entertain them; but I wished others, like 
myself, to- go to the fountain head, and draw for themselves. 
I have ever wished to live as much as lay in me — that is, as 
much as I conceived to be consistent with the due discharge 
of my duty — peaceably with all men. Differences and con- 
tentions of all kinds ought greatly to be avoided; — religious 
contentions most of all. Man will not submit to the 
dictation of man, weak and fallible as himself; he, there- 
fore, will always contest the matter with him, and though 
at first there may be nothing perceptible to an unbiassed 
spectator to keep them apart, they pelt each other with dirt 
and stones till they raise a heap between them which 
separates them for ever. Send a man to the Scriptures, to 
read and judge for himself, and he will not contend with 
you. Where he then differs it is probable that it will be 
in love and charity. 

As love is declared to be the essence of the Creator and 
Governor of the Universe, so it is the essence of that religion 
of which the united Godhead is the author. Whatever, there- 
fore, is not of Love, is not Christianity. Contention, hatred, 
and persecution, are not of Love, — they, therefore, have no- 
thing to do with Christianity ; and whatever tends to awaken, 
or keep them alive, cannot belong to it. Nothing but an 
unrestrained liberty of conscience, in relation to spiritual con- 
cerns, can be consistent with that distinguishing character- 
istic of pure Clnistianity. 

* * * God is a spirit, and those Avorship Him most 
acceptably who have the least of matter connected with their 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 175 

worship. We are candidates for heaven, and we are inha- 
bitants of earth ; in both relations are duties demanded of 
us. God requires our hearts, and then we may give our in- 
genuity and much of our attention to the world : at the 
same time that we are required to be fervent in spirit, we are 
enjoined not to be slothful in business. If forms are now 
necessary in religion, it is only in consequence of the imper- 
fection of our nature. * * * To such things, however, 
it often now seems advisable to conform, rather than give 
offence to a weaker brother ; for this, when it can be done 
with a safe conscience, is clearly consistent with — nay it is 
required of us by — that Love which is the essence of Chris- 
tianity. Nothing, perhaps, has been more subversive of 
this lovely and essential principle of pure religion than 
the splitting of Christianity itself, as it were, into 
two parts — namely, into Faith and Good Works, as if 
they were not both necessary to her very being and ex- 
istence. 

This is only an imaginary division, which I am sure never 
did and never will take place. On this subject, therefore, I 
would say, " What God hath joined together, let not man 
attempt to put asunder." Faith without works is dead, and 
good works without faith cannot exist; there, therefore, 
must be both, or there cannot be either." 

In allusion to controversial divinity he remarks : — "If one- 
tenth part of the time so spent in writing had been spent in 
prayer, in reading the Holy Scriptures, and in silent medita- 
tion, I am persuaded that very different fruit from persecu- 
tion would have been the result. 

It is hard indeed for a great or a learned man to become 
as a little child — to feel that strength is the offspring of 



L76 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 



man feel who cometli to God, whether he be great or lowly, 
learned or unlearned, for "God hath chosen the foolish 
things of the world to confound the things that are mighty — 
that no flesh should glory in His presence." Pride and pre- 
sumption are, however, by no means confined either to the 
rich or to the learned. I only mean to assert that the Holy 
Scriptures may be at least as well understood and prac- 
tised, as far as is essential to salvation, by the poor and un- 
learned, as by those who are differently circumstanced ; and 
that, therefore, I am not, necessarily, either arrogant or pre- 
sumptuous in having dared to examine and judge for myself. 
From you I do not fear such an accusation. I have heard" 
you assert, "that the first and most important duty of a 
Minister of the Gospel was to induce his flock earnestly and 
anxiously to read their Bible, pray for illumination, and judge 
for themselves ;" — you, therefore, will not find fault with me 
for doing that which you wish all to do. 

My practice has long — almost invariably — been, morning 
and evening (the first and the last employment of the day) , to 
retire into my closet, there to endeavour to compose my 
thoughts and affections, and to raise and fix them on hea- 
venly things. T never feel satisfied if my supplications are 
not accompanied with tears. (This, however, is no criterion 
for others — our habits and our feelings differ greatly.) I 
then open the New Testament, and, generally in the place on 
which I first cast my eyes, read till something strikes me as 
a subject proper for meditation — (and I seldom need to read 
many verses before that is the case); — this I take as the 
subject for consideration at any leisure moments during the 
ensuing night or day. 



SELECT REMAINS OE SAMUEL ROBERTS. 177 

An habitual thinker, I was always fond of solitude. My 
necessarily active duties have not allowed ine much of it ; 
but, perhaps, on that account, I have enjoyed the little which 
I have had the more. It has been on those occasions that 
I have felt as if admitted to the most intimate communion 
with spiritual subjects and objects. Such opportunities 
ought never to be suffered to pass unimproved ; they are pre- 
cious moments to those who are sensible of their worth, and 
possess a disposition to enjoy and profit by them. 

In connection with the preceding letter, may be here in- 
troduced, as giving further insight to the arcana of his inner 
man, some account of a manuscript work, containing his 
private opinion of the generally prejudicial effect of the pos- 
session of large emoluments, or great human learning, by 
the Ministers of the Gospel of Christ, also by external para- 
phernalia in religious worship ; and his prophetic anticipa- 
tions of a coming period, near at hand, when there shall be 
one Universal Church, not divided by forms and ceremonies, 
having its temple in the heart, and its worship in spirit and 
in truth. 

He commences with the account already given in his Auto- 
biography, of the prayer of his own childhood (suggested 
by that of Solomon), wherein he most sincerely and fervently 
supplicated God for that heavenly wisdom which cometh 
down from the Father of Lights, resigning all wish for either 
human learning or earthly riches, and only desiring to be 
instructed in, and enabled to perform the will of God. 

He proves the practicability of his views as regards the 

Church, by the examples of the Quakers and the Moravians, 

who, by uniform and consistent perseverence in the same 

course, have at length emerged from obloquy, opposition, and 

i 2 



373 .WToKlOCR.U'lIY AND 

persecution, to an elevation on winch they stand higher in 
the estimation of those who differ from them than any other 
two sects of professing Christians. He descants on the temp- 
tation held out by the emoluments of the Church to unprin- 
cipled men to lie to the Holy Ghost. He further says : — 

" Who shall dare to sell that which the Lord from heaven 
purchased with his blood, that it might he freely bestowed, 
without money and without price, on all who seek it and 
claim it ?" Freely ye have received — -freely give ! " Pro- 
vide neither gold, nor silver, nor brass, in your purses, for the 
workman is worthy of his Meat." Beyond this, nothing has 
been promised to the teachers of Christianity ; nevertheless, 
if they be sincere, assuredly they will not be without their 
reward. But if the love of money enter at all into their mo- 
tives for undertaking the ministerial office, both tlieir expec- 
tations and their services will be vain. * * Among all 
the Apostles of our blessed Saviour, one only disgraced his 
profession : the rest were faithful to the end, even unto death. 
That one was he who carried the purse. Though the con- 
tents of that purse, it seems, were designed for the relief of 
the poor, such is the deceitfuluess of riches — such their 
power to tempt to evil, that even an Apostle, a companion, 
a professed friend of the Lord of light and life — one who 
was ear-witness to the pure doctrines of holiness, as they 
flowed from his Master's lips, could not resist tlieir baneful 
influence. Himself an appointed teacher of divine truths — 
he became a thief, appropriating the property of the poor, 
entrusted to him, to his own use. This, perhaps, was the 
first step in his path of wickedness. At last, for money he 
betrayed to death his heavenly Lord and Master, about to 
offer his life as a ransom for him" 



SELECT REMAINS OE SAMUEL ROBERTS. 179 

It may well be believed, that the value of human 
learning in ascertaining the integrity of the sacred text, 
would have been freely admitted by the author of this trea- 
tise; but in another point of view he here objects to it. 
He speaks of the nature of University studies, — mythological 
and classical learning, — as adverse to religion and morality. 

'* Eank and learning," he says, " do not, cannot qualify 
to be efficient teachers of the wisdom able to make men wise 
unto salvation. * * Little more remains for man, as a 
religious teacher in a Christian country, than to induce his 
hearers to give their hearts to God ; to love Him, and to de- 
sire and endeavour to serve Him fervently, constantly, and 
faithfully. To do tins they must induce them to a frequent 
and close examination of the Holy Scriptures, with constant 
prayer for faith, and for the wisdom which the Holy Spirit 
alone can supply. To do this requires neither rank nor 
learning, — on the contrary, the more the teacher can himself 
approximate to a little child, the more likely will he be to in- 
duce his hearers to become such ; which they must do before 
they are fit to become candidates for the kingdom of heaven." 

By pride, we are told, the angels fell ; and pride, whether 
of rank, riches, or learning — whether in the teacher or the 
hearer, is what keeps down the human race. 

It is not to be expected that men who have spent a great 
portion of their time and property to furnish them with know- 
ledge superior to others, should be content, when called upon 
to display that knowledge as teachers of others, to own that 
they know no more on the subject of which they are pro- 
fessors, than the most unlearned of their hearers might soon, 
arid easily, learn to know from another source. This is not 
in human nature : hence the most subtle disquisitions, on 



I s <' AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

the plainesl points, are often substituted for the simple in- 

u Qigible words of Scripture. 

That divine Being, who spake as never man spake, pro- 
mised to every man who should obey Him, and desire it, 
a Comforter, who should lead him into all truth j who 
should explain to him the deep things of God, and even 
show him tilings to come. With this Comforter, — the Holy 
Spirit of God, — for his teacher, the humble, earnest enquirer 
after Scripture truths cannot be fatally wrong. He, however, 
who shall neglect to avail himself of this divinely appointed 
source of heavenly wisdom, which may be had without money 
and without price, and rely for spiritual knowledge on human 
learning and on human agents, will assuredly only the more 
bewilder himself, and, if he profess to be a teacher, the more 
bewilder his hearers. Looking at the letter of Scripture, 
which we have inspired authority for affirming, killeth, and 
despising or neglecting the Spirit, which the same authority 
affirms maketh alive, he becomes a darkened light, render- 
ing darkness itself still more dark ; a blind guide, misleading 
those who themselves cannot see, towards the brink of de- 
struction. * * Splendour and Christianity are incom- 
patible. 

The poor unsightly Hottentot, in his simple kraale, singing, 
with the sweetness of an angers voice, the praises of his 
Saviour and his God, is, I conceive, a more acceptable wor- 
shipper than the hired robed choirister in the most magni- 
ficent cathedral, accompanying with his voice the thrilling 
ones of the highly embellished organ ; while the affectionate 
negro slave, who walked, after a hard day's labour, four miles 
over bad road, in a dark tempestuous night, to request her 
Moravian pastor to tell her more about her dear Saviour who 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS . 181 

died to take away her sins, and whose words, she said, wer 
sweeter to her soul than the sugar-cane to her lips, — (see 
Moravian Register,) — was, I suspect, a truer Christian than 
thousands who are borne to church in splendid equipages, to 
repose on downy cushions in lordly pews. 

The fact is, that God and Mammon cannot both be 
served by the same individual, at the same time ; and when- 
ever the attempt is made, the cause of the latter invariably 
gains ground, while that of God loses it in proportion. This 
contest, however, is not to go on to the end of time. The 
decree is gone forth, " Hitherto shalt thou come, but no 
farther." The period is ordained, and is arriving, when all 
shall be taught of God ; when it shall be no longer necessary 
to say, " Know the Lord, for all shall know Him, from the 
least to the greatest." Man may say, " How can these 
things be?" The Spirit will answer, "With God all things 
are possible." 

It seems to me as if the dayspring from on high was at 
this time preparing to visit the world, now lying in dreadful 
sin and darkness. Humility, watchfulness, and sober- 
mindedness, are the great preparatory requisites : these will 
probably be produced by severe individual and national 
chastisements. But the work is the Lord's, and he will be 
at no loss for the means ; indeed, they seem even now pre- 
pared, or preparing. 

Should those awful introductory times which I anticipate 
arrive, love to God will be found to be the most efficient 
panacea : it will not only afford strength to support the evils, 
but it will lessen the evils themselves. 

Before Christianity can become general in the way in 
which we are assured that it shall do, it must be reduced to 



1S2 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

its first principles. It may not be necessarj that nil men 
should think exactly alike on all the less essential points of 
doctrine; but it is probable that the Holy Spirit has still 
clearer ami stronger light than yet received to afford to sin- 
cere and earnest humble inquirers : nor is it improbable 
that He may eventually so lead to the effectual purging of 
Christianity from impurities that it shall thenceforth appear 
and remain in all that native loveliness, simplicity, and per- 
fection, which must remove all doubt, all cavil, all difference 
of opinion, and unite all nations, languages, and people, as 
faithful and true worshippers. 

Having alluded to some prophetic passages of the New 
Testament, he says : — 

These predicted times we have known, and lived in : 
they have, however, I trust, almost had their duration, 
and will be succeeded ere long by times when the One 
Great Teacher shall banish all fables from the religious 
world, propagating none but sound doctrines, and univer- 
sally establishing the truth. That these latter times are to 
come, we have the same sure word of prophecy to ensure ns 
as declared that those should come which we have seen, and 
which we now trust are passing away. They must not, 
however, be expected to supplant the other without a 
struggle : the world and worldly things have too long, too 
powerfully, and too generally prevailed, to be expelled by 
any strength short of Almighty power : but when God 
begins, He will likewise make an end , when He ariseth to 
shake terribly the earth, no flesh shall glory in His presence, 
for He will then choose the base things of the world, and 
things which are despised, — yea, and things which are not, 
to bring to nought tilings that are. 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 183 

During those dreadful cormnotions which must accom- 
pany the passing away of old things, and the establishment 
of those which are new, as regards religion, it will be the 
duty of every true Christian to keep himself as much as he 
can apart from the world, and unspotted by it ; joyful that 
the true light is again beginning to enlighten the world, 
but sorrowful that the passing away of the darkness must be 
attended by the severe afflictions and mournful wailings of 
those who have loved darkness, not only because their deeds 
were evil, but because that darkness enabled them frequently 
to luxuriate in all the pomps and vanities of a proud, a vain, 
and a frivolous world. 

It must needs be that these afflictions accompany the 
awful and eventful change, but the sincere, the humble, and 
disinterested Christian, will be so far from exulting at them 
that he will be ready to pity and console the sufferer. The 
thought that the riches of a fallen Church will in all proba- 
bility be taken from it, and disposed of otherwise, will form 
no part of his rejoicing : he will not look at them with the 
eye of desire ; he will have no longing for these things ; he 
will remember that they have been to their possessors a 
stumbling-block, and an occasion of falling; and he will 
regard them rather as a snare than as a blessing. 

Above all, let every one who reverently names the 
name of Christ imitate his example in keeping aloof from 
all the violent contentions of the world ; with a heart full 
of gratitude to a gracious God, that, though living in times 
threatening difficulties, dangers, and afflictions to all 
descriptions of men, they are not times when persecutions 
for conscience sake are likely to be prevalent : on the con- 
trary, they promise the greatest security to those who most 



184 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

closely imitate the unerring example of their meek and Jowly 
Saviour. He left the contentions of the world to the men 
of the world, requiring nothing for the religion which He 
lived and died to establish, but for it to be left unmolested. 
He and His religion wanted neither riches, splendour, nor 
the praise of men : it was the still small voice, speaking to 
the heart, and heard best by the most humble in the deepest 
solitude. The man, then, who is only anxious to practise 
and teach a religion, which seeks not for any of the spoils 
for which the world may be contending, will not be likely 
to meet with much opposition from any of the conflicting 
parties. Though the city which he will be seeking to 
establish may be a little one — a Zoar, a city of refuge, yet 
there the repentant transgressor may seek and find safety, 
the outcast procure a home, and the heaven-bound pilgrim 
refreshment and rest. Prom thence may he behold, while 
protected by the arm of the Almighty, the fierce contentions 
and the conflagrations of a vain, an ambitious, and a wicked 
world. 

Whatever the final effect of the change may be, its pro- 
gress will probably be almost without observation. The 
overturn of no old establishment will be attempted by any 
means, but by showing a more excellent way. Here a 
little, and there a little, will the light of truth advance, and 
spread on every side : the mists of darkness and of error 
will as gradually recede, and silently vanish away. The 
light is of God, and therefore the world cannot prevail 
against it. The weapons which alone will be used in this 
warfare will not be carnal, but mighty through God to the 
pulling down of strongholds. How ? Not by violence ! 
No ; but by the silent, gentle operations of the Holy Spirit 



SELECT REMAINS OP SAMUEL ROBERTS. 185 

of God. He will erect his pure and sacred Temple in the 
heart of every true believer ; but he will not induce any of 
them to destroy by violence the splendid temples built by 
hands, however polluted and abominable they may have 
become. 

Amid the anarchy, confusion, and sufferings, which 
much precede and attend those commotions, and anticipated 
political changes in ancient states, particularly in this, the 
Secret, silent, soothing of this proposed recurrence to the 
pure and primitive religion of love and peace will serve to 
calm the troubled spirit, and soothe the agitated frame to 
rest. It is when the judgments of the Lord are in the 
earth that the inhabitants of the world are most disposed to 
learn righteousness. In those fearful times, which are most 
assuredly approaching, the important truths, which have 
been here attempted to be enforced, will be the most likely 
to produce an extensive and abiding effect. The aspect of 
the times now appears to me to be such as distinctly to 
open an unusually wide door for the entry of that truth, 
which till now could not have obtained admission "When 
men's minds are failing them for fear, and for looking after 
those things that are coming on the earth — when the 
powers of the heavens shall be shaken — they will be looking 
for a place of refuge, and ready to cry, " What must I do 
to be saved ? " 

It was when slowly recovering (at the age of seventy- 
seven) from that long-continued illness which has been 
spoken of, that Mr. Roberts wrote and published " The 
Paupers Advocate, a Cry from the Brink of the Grave 
against the New Poor Law ;" in which he says — 

" During seven years I fought the good fight of God and 



186 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

the Poor against Mammon, even till I ( bought that I had 
finished my course, when I rejoiced with thankfulness to 
God for having disposed my heart, and given me power, for 
so long a time to ex ] lose and oppose this poor-destroying, 
country-ruining, God-opposing law. It has pleased Him, 
however (in His mercy, I trust,) to restore me to such health 
and strength, as to be able thus again to renew the holy 
contest." 

This pamphlet (thus possessing peculiar interest from the 
time and circumstances in which it was written), is corn- 
in a strain partly serious, partly jocular, aud has 
highly characteristic, and of a vivacity exhibiting 
so remarkable a contrast with the ordinarily esteemed 
mournful circumstances under which they were written, 
that (together with pardon for their severity), must be 
craved permission for their insertion here. 

From the date of the enactment of the New Poor Law 
the members of the upper house of legislature lost in its 
author an old supporter and friend, and became obnoxious 
to the shafts of satire, which, in defence of those whom he 
regarded as the oppressed poor, he dealt with an unsparing 
hand. In the following passages he animadverts on the 
amusements of the indolent great — amusements, however, 
by no means confined to the great. 

" God does not despise the poor for being such, what- 
ever the rich may do. Life and liberty, health and 
strength, He bestows alike on all. There is, moreover, 
another precious gift bestowed on all alike, — I mean time. 
Wherever and whenever rich and poor have existed, that 
precious gift has been more improved and more enjoyed by the 
latter than bv the former, who find it the greatest burden 



SELECT REMAINS OE SAMUEL ROBERTS. 187 

they possess. It clings to them like the Old Man of the 
sea, with a pertinacity and annoyance worse than that of -a 
rich aged wife, married for her money. The whole object 
of their life is to get rid of it. * * * It is a lamentable 
circumstance that blood -shedding, and inflicting misery, 
seem to constitute, in a great measure, both then' business 
and their pleasure. There is one species of killing in which 
most of them are more or less engaged, — the killing of 
time, in the attempt to accomplish which they kill thousands 
of other things — sometimes even their dearest friends, and 
sometimes ruin their families, and even kill themselves. In 
pursuit of that object they have killed thousands of fine 
horses, sometimes their riders too, in galloping with them 
in their carriages from misery in one place to misery in 
another." 

Fishing, racing, and hunting, are then described, and 
next shooting. 

" Go to Longshaw, in this neighbourhood, the shooting 
seat of the Duke of Rutland, on some opening day, (say 
1839). The morning is glorious; but there had been a 
heavy shower in the night. The luxuriant deep heath and 
ling glittered with the slanting beams of the just risen 
sun. The Pox House Inn, the stables, and the yard, were 
crowded with servants, horses, carriages, and dogs. Tar as 
the eye could reach, almost to the princely palace of Chats- 
worth, might be seen and heard the frequent flash and report of 
the death-dealing tube. Scattered far apart, but near at hand, 
half sunk in the wet, luxuriant heath, and stumbling occa- 
sionally in their eagerness over the hidden surface-stones, — 
the noble host, Sir Robert Peel, his Grace of Wellington, 
and other noblemen, with their double-barrelled guns, their 



1 sv > iBIOGB \I'IIY AND 

dogs and keepers, with bags and reserve guns, might be 
seen, each with inconceivable delight watching the terrified 
bird which he had just shot, as it fell fluttering to the earth, 
or as, with painful, awkward efforts (wounded), it winged its 
way to pine, and slowly to die — like paupers, in solitude. 

"The great warrior says, ( England can have no little 
war/ This is a war declared against our oldest, most 
powerful, and best Ally, God. This, then, can, at any 
rate, be no little war, — no hit of a war. "We have no feeble 
enemy now to contend with. * * * 

"The greatest enemies of the Old Poor Laws among 
them, acknowledged that there were not more than two or 
three clauses in it which required amendment ; but so wise 
were they in their own conceits, that, rather than attempt 
to mend them, they determined to concoct a completely new 
one (only calling it an amendment of the old one), which 
should not have a clause in it ccqmble of being amended. 
"Well ! though it has now existed seven years, and they have 
already been forced to make nearly twenty alterations in it, 
it is plain they have not much amended it, since my Lord 
John Russell himself has, within this week, proposed forty- 
six more alterations, which he deems necessary to be made 
in it without delay. 

" Now, let me ask old John Bull (if he has not been sleep- 
ing these seven long years) if he thinks that these Monsieur 
Baboons are beings fit, or likely, to put and lead his old, 
rough, honest, patient lion hi chains (forged in, and brought 
from Prance), and to make him get up, growl, walk about, 
and lie down again, at their command j and, if he refuses to 
do so, to compel him to obedience by correction ? Me is, 
you know, a noble beast, John, and is not easily provoked by 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 1S9 



reptiles to retaliate : but he never yet patiently bore 
insults from such creatures as these. Place confidence in 
him, and he will defend both himself and you. But because 
Franky Frog can only be kept within bounds by being con- 
centrated in dirty pools, our half-French rulers seem resolved 
to try (let them beware) something of the same plan on Nero. 
But I think that they have gone about as far with him, in 
that way, as he will bear. His tail has been in motion, as 
if he were uneasy, for some time." 

As an example of the Author's occasional colloquial style, 
may be given the following familiar illustration of legislative 
blundering : — 

They are adepts at destroying, while they can form 
nothing that will either stand or be fit to stand. They re- 
mind me very much of the Clodpole, whom the country 
blacksmith took to learn a trade of which he was totally ig- 
norant. At the first starting, he was confident that he could 
make a horse-shoe as well as the best of them. To convince 
him of his ignorance, his master gave him a piece of iron 
with which to try his skill and dexterity : on this he laboured 
till he had burnt and hammered half the iron away, and 
began to be tired, and to despair. He then told the master, 
that though he could not make a horse-shoe of it, he was 
sure that he could make a good holdfast of it, which would 
be more useful. "Well, well, Hodge — then make a hold- 
fast of it." Hodge, again blew, and hammered, and sweated, 
but nothing like a holdfast could he make. " Never mind, 
master," quoth Hodge, " I find that it will make a hobnail 
best ; and that, you know, is sure to be useful." So to 
work went Hodge, to make his hobnail, but with no better 
success. " Well, this is stupid iron /■" cries Hodge to his 



100 AUTOBIOCUAl'IIY AND 

master, who, smiling, said, 
wouldsi make nothing of it." "Make nothing of it! I'll 
bel you, mester, howe'er, a pot o'beer that I can make sum- 
mat with it yet." "Well! done, then, Hodge. "What 
cans! thou make with it?" ""Why, I can make a hiss wi' 
it ! Now, mester, I've won — aim I?" cxultingly — nothing 
abashed — cried the consequential fool. 

Thus is it with our present ministry. They will under- 
take anything, with little or no consideration, but they effect 
nothing valuable. They can destroy the oldest and most 
valuable institutions of the realm, and arrogantly presume to 
replace them (thereby throwing the kingdom into confusion,) 
by ill-digested novelties, which, after long hammering to 
make something of them, end altogether in a "Hiss !" 

The following lines are descriptive of a scene of which he 
had been the delighted witness during his noontide walk in 
his own garden. 

THE BIRTH OF THE LADY-BIRDS. 

The youthful Year, with her attendant Months, 
Pursued, with steady pace, her wonted course ; 
The oldest twain had been despatched in turn, 
To bind in icy fetters, and to cast 
Over the then benumbed and hardened earth, 
Week after week, the renovating snow. 
Their task performed ; — the ever steady year 
Sent forth the next in turn — eldest of Spring — 
The wild, capricious, life-bestowing March; 
That she, in flower-bespangled robe of storm, 
Might agitate the world, call forth alarm, 
Destruction deal, or with bland smiles bestow 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 191 

Life on vast myriads of the insect tribe, 
And hope and happiness on man and beast. 

In regions westward, where perennial snows 

Untrod — unseen of man, Alps over Alps 

Accumulating lie, her lion slept, 

Till, at her well-known voice, he starts to life. 

Obedient to none else, to her he clings ; 

"While she in gentle chain, of early flowers, 

Her willing captive leads : with eyes of fire, 

He, ever and anon, looks in her face, 

Inquisitive to learn her potent will. 

No feeble monarch of Numidian race 

Is he : the very noblest of them all 

Would quaking seek their dens, if they but heard 

His far off, dreadful roar. He was not reared 

In forest shade of enervating clime ; 

His prey he sought 'midst wild sterility, 

And when he slept, tremendous mountain-gusts 

His granite cradle rock'd. 

On mischief bent, 
The fitful leader of the captive brute 
Now tossed aside his rough luxuriant mane, 
While, with malicious smile, she loosed the wreath. 
The noble savage shook himself, and sprung 
Up to the highest eminence : from thence 
His well-known roar, though only then half raised, 
Commotion instant spread o'er earth and seas. 
"Louder !" Ins mistress cried — and louder he 
Roar after roar sent forth. The mighty deep, 



192 i POBIOGRAPffX and 

Astounded; mountains high her billows raised; 

\\ hi -h. like a routed lu>st, lied from the foe. 

Navies l hey with them bore; while all in vain 

The manners, as reeling to and fro, 

Essayed to guide., or stay their headlong coursi . 

Dashed on the rocks, the vessels and their crews 

Together perished, while affrighted man, 

In rocking cities pent, trembled with fear, 

The forest trees bent eastward, as in haste 

To 'scape the threatening foe. The sun lnmself 

Gathered Ids mantle dark, fold over fold, 

Hiding Iris face from morn till closing eve, 

Or, if at times he dared to look abroad, 

It was but for a momentary peep. 

The inconstant now, back to his mountain cave, 

The noble world-alarming brute dispatched. 

The tumult ceased — the sun his veil withdrew, 
And forth with more than wonted splendour shone 
E'en gentle zephyr, stealing from the south, 
Ventured liis first spring-visit to the flowers. 
All nature round rejoiced, with cheerful smile, 
And folding in her arms a petted lamb, 
The fickle maid, with flowing verdant train, 
Increased the universal burst of joy. 

It was the noontide hour ; lured by the sight 
Of glories so unwont, the spot I sought 
Where nature's handmaid, Art — layer over laver — 
Had formed with skill the heat-engendering bed, 
With superstructure of prolific mould 






SELECT REMAINS OE SAMUEL ROBERTS. 193 

Lit by the solar raj — a vapour bright 
Danced brilliantly — in which a new-born race, 
Inmunerous, evinced enraptured bliss ; 
I stopped to gaze upon the joyous scene, 
Thousands were on the wing, while from the earth, 
Others I saw emerging into life. 

The glorious sun had called them forth, and now, 

Perfect in all their parts, the Schoolmaster 

They needed not, for they were taught of God. 

A race they were of tiny lady birds, 

With bodies new, ascending from their graves, 

Decked in a scarlet jet-bespangled vest 

That in the sun's clear rays shone gloriously — 

They shook at once defiling earth away : 

And as with wonderment the scene they viewed, 

Each seemed to ask — " Oh ! what ! and where am I ? 

Then, as if long accustomed to their use, 

They spread their filmy wings, and upward soared ; 

Enraptured with excess of happiness. 

At first in circles small and low they wheeled, 

Till, bolder grown, they gradually rose 

To wider circuits, up to loftier heights ; 

They knew not — thought not — cared not whence they 

came, 
Enough for them that they were happy now. 

It might not be, but in the " still small voice" 
That met mine ear, methought I could discern 
One rapturous song of gratitude and praise ; 
As if they all, with simultaneous voice, 



194' i BIOGRAPHY AND 

Loud hallelujahs sung to heaven's high King, 
Who worlds created, and who comets guides 
Through trackless space, and yet for insects cares. 

In December, 1842, Mr. Roberts was again visited by 
severe and most alarming illness, but shorter in its duration 
than that from which he had previously suffered. Ere long 
(though then in his eightieth year) again he rallied. A 
frame not remarkable for strength seems, in his case, to have 
been restored and upheld in comparative vigour, till the age 
of eighty-five, by the energies of a mind that was always 
active. 

In his "Voice of an Octag'enarian," published in 1842, 
he says : — 

" At fourscore years of age (having lately been mercifully 
raised from the brink of the grave, possibly in part for the 
purpose of performing this important duty), I now, in the 
happiest period of an unusually happy life, devote the facul- 
ties, the time, and the opportunity which has been graciously 
afforded me, in thus promoting the cause of God, of my 
country, and particularly of the poor. "With an active mind 
in an active body, I have, during the last half century, been in 
a great measure so devoting myself. The list of works winch 
I have published on the subject of the New Poor Law 
alone will bear witness to my indefatigableness. My motto 
through life has been, ' Never despair in a good cause.' 
Nor do I in this." 

It is with no view of depreciating that which the united 
testimony of competent judges has placed on a pedestal 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 195 

where it cannot be shaken, the genius of Milton, that 
mention is here made of a small work, distributed by Mr. 
Eoberts among his friends in the spring of 1844, under the 
startling title of " Milton Unmasked." 

This is not only an example of characteristic daring, but 
is in other respects also a remarkable publication, as issued 
by an octagenarian of two years' standing. 

The character of Milton, as an intolerant professor of a 
religion of love, was peculiarly revolting to him ; he re- 
garded the introduction of the Sacred Trinity as the dramatis 
personse of his great work as in itself profane ; and (as must 
be confessed) he could never appreciate the matchless power 
of the " master of the mighty lyre/' With these views, he 
always spoke of him with severity ; and at last, with most 
unpoetical spirit, set himself to work to take to pieces the 
machinery, and expose the inconsistencies, of "Paradise 
Lost/'' as (with pardon craved of every lover of the lay) will 
be here shown. Thus he introduces the subject. 

"Let us always give honour to whom honour is due. 
Milton was a peculiar character, but by no means either an 
amiable, humble, or pious one. He was not one who 
thought of himself less highly than he ought to think. The 
only perfect character was meek and lowly in heart ; when 
He was reviled He reviled not again, when He suffered He 
threatened not, but became obedient unto death, even the 
death of the cross. This was not a character with which 
Milton was unacquainted, nor was it one which he despised, — 
nay, it was one which he professed to consider a perfect, 
though not (except in poetry) a divine one. Milton was 
decidedly the reverse of this Being, who made it a distin- 



100 ,\i TOBIOGEAPHT AND 

guished characteristic of his disciples, thai they should not 

only love one another, Imi also love their enemies, 

"He has presumptuously attempted to reach the light in- 
accessible, and to describe that which mortal eve never has, 
never can behold. lie has dared to convert into the hero of 
a romance, for the display of talents not his own, and for the 
amusement of beings reckless as himself, the King of kings 
and Lord of lords, the only Potentate, dwelling in the light 
which no man can approach unto, whom no man hath seen 
or can see. This, the Father, the Creator of all things, with 
his only begotten Son, the Saviour of the world, together 
with all the spiritual beings whom he could make subservient 
to his selfish purposes, lie has dared to transform into beings 
totally inexplicable, a kind of heathen deities, good or evil, 
or of mixed natures; beings partly spiritual, partly embo- 
died. The scenes which he has chosen for the exhibition of 
his drama are as incomprehensible as his dramatis persona, 
and, like them, opposed to scripture and to common sense. 
" His personages can be pierced by spears, or knocked 
down by cannon balls, as bodies ; or they are spirits which 
can fly like motes on a sunbeam, or cast somersets from 
one world to another. Take Satan himself (the real hero of 
the inexplicable tragedy), what is he ? a spirit, — a fallen 
one, it is true, but still a spirit ; but yet, with substance and 
forms innumerable, he is almost all things in turn, but 
nothing long. First, an enormous being, ' extended many 
a rood/ part in and part out of the lake of liquid fire. Then 
he assumes the form of an inferior heavenly seraph, and flies 
past anew found world, or part of a world, called the Limbo 
of Vanity, or the Paradise of Fools, in his way to the Sun, 
where, deceiving the guardian angel of that orb, he is di- 



SELECT REMAINS OE SAMUEL ROBERTS. 197 

rected by him the way to this earth, towards which ' he 
throws his steep flight in many an airy wheel/ He then 
bounds over the wall of Paradise, assumes the shape of a 
cormorant, and perches on the highest branch of the tree of 
life, the loftiest in the garden, in order to find out Adam 
and Eve. He then assumes the form of a serpent, a mist, 
and a toad, and afterwards assumes his first enormous bulk 
in hell, reaching the stars. Such is Milton's description of 
that fallen angel. * * * 

" What Limbo or the Paradise of Fools had to do with 
Paradise Lost, is not explained. There were no fools then 
to inhabit it. * * His hell seems almost as changeable 
as his Satan. Sometimes a bottomless pit, sometimes a 
mass of liquid fire in the centre of the earth, sometimes 
one would conceive it to be a fiery orb, the land red hot, 
and the seas molten minerals ; sometimes a large portion 
of a globe, with a kind of Chinese wall round it, with only 
one gate to it, with Sin and Death for porters, (query, did 
they exist before the fall ?) of whom Satan had to obtain 
leave to quit his prison and Ins everlasting chains, — though, 
as it appears that he could wander where he liked, and could 
soar (when he pleased) from orb to orb, millions of miles 
apart, he might easily (had he pleased) have popped over the 
wall, without saying with your leave, or by your leave, 
to either the frightful crowned shadow or crawling fish- 
woman. 

" So much for Milton's hell. What is his heaven, and 
where is it ? As far as I can comprehend it, Satan, when 
he got out of hell, in his way to heaven, struggled his way 
through Chaos (what this is I do not know, being per- 
sonified) till he got to the Paradise of Pools, or Limbo; 



198 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

when there, he gets a sight of heaven's gates, formed all of 
gold and precious stones ; he must, on this occasion, have 
had good eyes to see them so many millions of miles oft', 
though on others it will be found that he had to ask his 
way. Well, but more surprising still, notwithstanding the 
distance, a flight of wide golden steps or stairs from thence 
was occasionally let down, and were so for his accommoda- 
tion (though he could fly where he liked). Stairs of gold, 
millions of miles long, must be rather weighty to draw up, and 
rather tedious to ascend by spirits, who could, as will appear, 
fly on beams of light millions of miles in a second. * * * 

" These are not common falsehoods, but falsehoods and 
misrepresentations of that God, who is Alpha and Omega, 
who dwelleth in light inaccessible, whom no man hath seen, 
neither can see, who cannot by man's wisdom be found out, 
whose greatness is unsearchable. The great I AM, even 
the High and Mighty One that inhabit etli eternity, who is 
the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever. Tins Life and 
Light of the world, has the presumptuous dealer in fiction 
dared to drag down from his inaccessible, unapproachable 
glorious dwelling on high, and exhibited in grossly ima- 
gined and mock majesty. * * * 

" Milton does not appear to have formed to himself (much 
less described to others) any definite ideas of the nature or 
relative situations of any of his fields of actions. * * What 
could his conception be of heaven? We shall say more on 
that subject hereafter ; at present it may suffice to observe 
that, though the Scriptures state that the Lord shall be there 
an everlasting light, and God the glory thereof, and that there 
is no darkness, Milton hath thought proper to endow it 
with both light and darkness, in an entirely novel manner. 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 199 

There is a cave, he assures us, near the throne of God, to 
which there are two doors. He personifies Light and Dark- 
ness, like the man and woman in the old weather-houses 
(he does not say male and female), who are constantly pur- 
suing each other, just as the said man and woman attached 
to the weather-house would do, if they were, like two horses 
in a mill, in perpetual circular motion. By this ingenious 
and novel contrivance, without either sun or moon, day and 
night are afforded to the inhabitants of heaven, though the 
Scriptures inform us that they have them not. * * * 

" Milton makes Michael (afraid, it seems, of the result) to 
step forth and try calmly to cajole Satan by force of argu- 
ment; the parley, however, as might be expected, came to 
nothing : so to it they went, and continued hacking away all 
the time that Mistress Day was out of the cave, when we 
are informed — 

" And now their mightiest quelled, the battle sword, 
With many an inroad gored ! deformed rout 
Entered, and foul disorder ; all the ground 
With shivered armour strewn, and on a heap 
Chariot and charioteer lay overturned, 
And fiery foaming steeds." 

See Paradise Lost — Book 6, line 386. 

* * * " While, however, Mr. Night presided outside of the 
cave, Satan and his chiefs did not go to sleep, but after some 
long and (like those of our parliament) rather wearisome 
speeches, set to work in good earnest to prepare (before 
Mrs. Day should make her appearance) salutation instru- 
ments, which on the spur of the moment invented. Hear 
him : — 



200 A.UTOBIOGBAPHI AM» 

" Whereto, with look composed, Satan replied: 

'Nol aninvented, that, whiGh thou aright 

Beleiv'sl so main to our success, T bring/ " &c. &c. 

See Paradise Lost — Book G, line 1-79. 

"This was rather quick work, having powder to make too, 
and considering that they were inexperienced and had no 
light. How they managed to get on with their cannons 
Milton does not state, but as they had heavenly war chariots 
with horses, they would of course have horses for their can- 
non ; but having, as they had, to travel at the rate of sun- 
beams, the horses must be full blood and in good wind. 
Well, these and many other things which Milton affirms 
are surprising ; such as the effect of the new heavenly artillery 
upon the angelic spiritual army. * * * 

" Milton knew, it seems, what no one else ever knew 
before, that there were mountains in heaven (of course 
earthquakes and volcanoes), and that they were moveable 
mountains; this circumstance Milton causes the loyal angels 
to recollect, so as to be a match for the night invention of 
Satan of heaven-constructed artillery. 

" Their arms away they throw, and to the hills 

(For earth hath this variety from heaven 

Of pleasure situate in hill and dale) , 

Light as the lightning glimpse they ran, they flew." 

Szc. &c. kc. 

Book 6, line 340. 

" This war of mountains, which Milton has invented, 
must soon have settled the business had it been confined, 
like the cannon, to one army ; but as both could adopt it, 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 201 

the battle after all must have been terminated, like a war of 
moles, underground, if terminated at all. * * * 

" It seems, however, that all the rebel army had got cured 
of the effects of the cannon balls, and had crept from under 
the mountains, which might as well have remained as they 
were, the right side upwards, for not one rebel angel was 
missing. * * * 

"Milton's personages are quite as inexplicable as his 
worlds : as far as can be made out, they are generally (not 
always) spirits, who can travel on sunbeams ; spirits through 
whom a spear, a sword, or a cannon ball, would pass without 
hurting them ; yet for speed they at times ride in golden 
chariots drawn by horses, and wear armour for defence, 
and swords and spears to assail other spirits. "What all this 
is for it is difficult to say, for when the mountains began to 
fall on them, their arms and their armour they found, it 
seems, very cumbersome, and were glad to get rid of them. 
Satan himself would have escaped harmless from the felling 
blows of Abdiel, had he been without a helmet. * * * 

" Now only think of Milton's imagining a broad turn- 
pike road, formed all the way from earth to heaven (how 
many millions of miles he does not say) , paved all the way with 
stars (macadamizing, wood paving, and rail-roads being then 
undiscovered), and strewn withhold dust. This road (though, 
I ween, rather steep) we are informed by the impious poet 
was to facilitate the frequent intended visits of the King of 
Heaven himself to earth, as well as those of his winged 
messengers. Yet all these spiritual beings could, when they 
pleased, ride on sunbeams. I suspect that if the inhabi- 
tants of " the world before the Jlood" had been anyway 
like the people of these days, and had found out the begin- 
k 2 



202 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

ning of the road, there would have been no need of angel 
scavengers to keep them free from dust." 

These few passages will suffice as specimens of the cha- 
racter of the little book whence they are extracted, and 
examples of that acuteness of observation which continued 
with its author to the last. 



Of the letters of Mr. E/s correspondents, comparatively 
few being now in preservation, none will be introduced 
here witli the exception of the following, from Thomas 
Clarkson, possessing peculiar interest, from the account con- 
tained in it of different members of the family of the vene- 
rable philanthropist. 

Playford, Dec. 2Mb, 1845. 

My Dear Friend, 

I was very much pleased with your last letter. 
That you should be so active in body and mind at your ad- 
vanced age, is a matter of wonder to me, and for which you 
cannot be too thankful to the Author of all our blessings, 
and also for that sweet cheerfulness which must be so pleasant 
to yourself, and of which your family must partake. * * * 

I will not say anything about my own health, because I 
would not give you pain ; only that perhaps I may be pre- 
served a few weeks longer. 

It was my intention to have spoken to you with my pen 
on several points contained in your letter ; but when I con- 
sider what a length of labour such a task would impose 
upon me in my present weak state (nothing else would 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 203 

hinder me) ; I must put off a great deal of what I had to say 
to a future letter. 

Add to this, that I am growing blinder every day, of 
which you have a proof in the second line above this, where 
the words " hinder me" are written twice over, as I could 
not see where to place my lines. Hence, also, I am almost 
always blotting my paper, not being able to see how much 
ink I take up in my pen. 

You have given me a short history of a part of your 
family, — I admire your mother's character. I will give you 
now some account of my own. 

My father was born at Thirsk, in Yorkshire. He 
went to St. John's College, Cambridge, where he took 
the highest mathematical honours. After this he was or- 
dained. Soon afterwards he was invited by the trustees of 
the Great Grammar School at "Wisbech, in Cambridgeshire, 
to undertake the head mastership of that school, where he 
lived, and where he died. He was a truly pious man ; a 
most exemplary Christian : he had a small living at a village 
about two miles distant from Wisbech. The most promi- 
nent feature in his character, as a clergyman, was an almost 
unparalleled attention to the wants of the poor and needy, 
but particularly in sickness. Hence it was his delight to 
give both temporary comfort and heavenly consolation. 
His school-hours preventing his attendance there in the 
day, he made up for it by his presence among them in the 
evening or at night, and particularly where sickness pre- 
vailed. He had a small lantern, made on purpose, by 
which, or rather by the light of it, he walked at all hours of 
the night : neither rain, nor ice, nor snow, prevented his 
attendance at all hours of the night on the sick poor. I 



204 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

keep this lantern by mc as a memorial of his bibous in 
doing the will of his Heavenly Father. The poor were 

every thing with him, and the rich nothing. I have heard 
my mother say that he was frequently sent for, and called 
out of his bed at one, two, and three, in a winter's morning, 
to take this dreary walk. Suffice it to say, that attending 
a poor family in a contagious disorder, he caught the fever, 
and died. I was only six years old when this took place. 
I remember following him to the grave, when all the houses 
in "Wisbech closed their shutters. At the vicar of Wisbech's 
special request he was buried in that large church, and 
within the rails of the altar, and some few families in the 
town, and also at Walsoken (his parish) put themselves into 
mourning. 

My mother was the daughter of a respectable gentleman 
of moderate landed property, and a magistrate in the county 
of Norfolk. She was reckoned a fine woman, or so the 
world would say : she was of rather a superior mind. She 
had had a superior education : she was a great reader, and 
had in no ordinary degree the powers of conversation. 
She was cruelly afflicted with rheumatism during the last 
twenty years of her life, during which she was a cripple, 
having a maid-servant to attend her, on account of the dis- 
order in her limbs. She could not ring a bell when sitting- 
near it, nor could she put out of her way a cinder which 
happened to fly hot out of the fire, in consequence of which 
her flesh was frequently burnt ; but it is too painful to me 
to go farther on this subject. I can only say, that amidst 
all her afflictions we never heard her complain : no person 
who was with her would know that she was suffering at all, 
though they could not but see her crippled arms and lingers. 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL "ROBERTS. £05 

She was well read in French and Italian authors, and in 
consequence of her extensive reading was reckoned a plea- 
sant companion. And from whence did all her cheerfulness 
spring ? She was always happy, because she was a true 
Christian. With all her liveliness she never let herself 
down in conversation by any undignified expressions, nor 
an expression that was not worthy of her Christian pro- 
fession. 

She had three children, — myself, a sister, and a brother. 
I was the eldest, and my father died when I was but six 
years old. From that time my mother had the sole care of 
the three. 

My sister was well educated, but always under her mo- 
ther's roof. It was my mother's aim to make her an useful 
wife (not neglecting, however, the culture of her mind or 
religion), and she became so at the age of twenty-five. She 
married a respectable clergyman, who had a valuable living 
of his own, and about twenty years ago she died. She was 
always very kind to the poor : she kept one cow always in 
milk for them, called the Poor Man's Cow, for when one 
was what we call dry, another in milk was put into its 
place : she was not less kind when winter called for coals, 
candles, blankets, &c. 

My brother went into the navy early, was in seven severe 
actions, and made a lieutenant at the age of seventeen. He 
continued in it for some years, but did not court employ- 
ment or honour, though in the way of promotion. He had 
at his leisure deeply read the Scriptures ; and looking back 
with horror at the heart-rending scenes winch he had wit- 
nessed in the seven engagements mentioned, he came to the 
resolution that war was contrary both to the letter and 



206 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

spirit of Christianity, and that nothing could just if j him 
iu shedding a brother s blood ; and therefore wrote to the 
Lords of the Admiralty, and resigned. At this time he 
instituted a society in London for Permanent and Universal 
Peace. I joined him in it, and wrote several little tracts 
upon the subject. The society is now in existence, and 
several hundred persons belong to it. 

I may now tell you, that when I was exerting myself in 
the Abolition of the Slave Trade, he gave me all the assist- 
ance in his power. He went twice for me to , where I 

employed him in getting all the information possible rela- 
tive to that wicked trade, as carried on by the French 
merchants. 

But he signalized himself more on another occasion, the 
good effects of wdiich are felt at the present day. Mr. 
Wilberforce, Mr. Henry Thornton, myself, and others, deter- 
mined on establishing a colony at Sierra Leone, in Africa ; 
but whom were we to get as colonists, and whom to con- 
duct it ? It was known at this time that there were about 
eighteen hundred black people, whom the government for 
past services (formerly slaves in America) had located in 
Nova Scotia, a country the cold of which was very fatal to 
their constitutions. We had these in view (if we could but 
get them) for our colony ; but immense difficulties pre- 
sented themselves. There my noble-hearted brother shewed 
himself in a conspicuous manner. He offered to go to 
Halifax, and other ports ; to travel over the snows of that 
country to find out, if possible, the emancipated slaves, and 
to conduct them himself to Sierra Leone. He could not 
afford to do this himself, but he would take no pay or 
reward for his services. Let me say at once that his 



SELECT REMAINS OE SAMUEL ROBERTS. 207 

offer was accepted, and that he proceeded to Halifax. 
Here the people were scattered in groups of fifty or a hun- 
dred living together, and some a hundred miles from each 
other. All were suspicious at first, thinking that it was my 
brother's intention to make them slaves again; but the 
sweetness of his countenance, and his attractive urbanity of 
manners, did at length prevail on the most of them : but 
the difficulty of finding them out, and of travelling over the 
snows, and of getting them to attend public meetings, and 
of haranguing them, and of overcoming prejudices, were 
truly great. Let me say, then, that on the* day of sailing 
between 1800 and 1400 were upon the beach, and thirteen 
vessels were chartered to take them ; and that for their 
greater protection, the Lords of the Admiralty allowed my 
brother, as an officer of the navy, to hoist a broad pendant, 
shewing that they were under British protection. 

At length they went on board. My brother chose the 
most commodious vessel in the fleet for his own passage, 
that he might make his own vessel the hospital ship. All 
the aged, and they who were sick or sickly, were put on 
board his own ship, that they might all be under his own 
eye and under his own care ; at length he conducted them 
safely to Sierra Leone : and here new and different cares 
awaited him. He had to lay out a new town and build it. 
At this time the woods were filled with wild beasts, one of 
which, a tiger, was providentially discovered near the door 
of his tent one morning, which, if he had not been awake, 
would most probably have destroyed him. I may now ob- 
serve, that he was engaged to be married to a lady of a 
most respectable family. A promise was made to her 
before he left England, and to the Nova Scotian blacks 



SOS AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

before lie left Halifax, that lie would stay one year with 
them, but no longer, when lie expected that they would be 
mostly out of their difficulties; in the interim he acted 
as their first governor. He visited all the chiefs in the 
neighbourhood to procure their goodwill for Iris little colony, 
and to explain to them the motives which brought him to 
that part of the world. The Sunday was kept sacred : he 
officiated as their chaplain till a proper clergyman was sent 
out, preaching and reading the service of our Church him- 
self; and he buried all their dead. "When the time had 
expired he left the colony, having rigidly performed all his 
promises made to them in Nova Scotia. The trial at part- 
ing was very severe on both sides. The poor people said 
that they had never before known a white man perform his 
promise to a black man. Many of the Nova Scotians, or 
rather their descendants, are now in a respectable situation, 
as merchants or tradesmen, or land-owners, One of them, 
Gebadding, is the owner of the great government-house at 
Free Town, Sierra Leone. * * * 
I shall write to you soon again. 

I remain, with great regard, your sincere friend, 

Thomas Claukson. 

The slight sketch w 7 hich is attempted here of the charac- 
teristics of one whose character and labours had assuredly 
their bearing on his generation, would be left more imper- 
fect than it is intended to be, w : ere no mention made in it 
of the sagacity of his judgments in private life: oftentimes, 
when in the course of conversation, he has predicted some 
remote, and seemingly unlikely event, as the consequence of 



SELECT REMAINS OE SAMUEL ROBERTS. 209 

a projected measure, which measure was eventually taken : — 
after the lapse of years it has happened to the writer to be 
reminded of the prophecy by its fulfilment; meanwhile 
the prophet of the event, apparently forgetful of his own 
prediction, has never remarked — " this was what I said 
would happen/ 5 

Be it recorded also that he presumed not on to-morrow, 
nor left for to-morrow the work of to-day : as there was 
no chance in his creed, there was no accident in his life ; but 
means well directed to ends well defined. Time, the one 
incalculable treasure of every one born for Eternity ) — 
Time, whose utmost value none shall know till Eternity 
declare it, was, in his estimation, far too precious for his 
own to be squandered, or that of others invaded at his 
hands : punctuality, dispatch, and a systematic disposition 
of it, were his characteristics in business, and characterise 
tics of his life. Hence was he enabled quietly to conduct 
a business of some extent, together with the concerns of 
public societies, of which he was the main support; ready, 
meanwhile, at every call of benevolence ; taking a part on 
almost all occasions of large, and many of inferior, public 
interest ; issuing from the press a considerable number of 
comparatively bulky, and an unintermitted succession of 
smaller publications, being at the service of regular and 
occasional correspondents, and pursuing with enthusiasm 
and alacrity various avocations of science and of taste ; never, 
meanwhile, except jocularly, complaining of press of busi- 
ness : the only thing for which he could not find time, 
being his favourite recreation — drawing. 



210 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

From the Sheffield Iris of March 25, IS -17, the follow- 
ing paper is taken : — 

THE MISERIES OF IRELAND; 
THEIR CAUSE AXD CURE. 

" Clouds and darkness hang over Ireland, and the Legislature is beset 
with peril." — Loud J. Russell's Speech. 

What is to become of poor Ireland ? The rapacity of 
England during many centuries has, by violating all the 
requirements of pure religion, justice, mercy, and humility, 
been bringing her to this, her present miserable condition. 
The milch cow can now yield no more, and England will 
henceforth have to feed her. She has rendered her an 
incubus, from which nothing less than Almighty power 
(and that I conceive by fearful means) can free her. She 
has become to England like the Old Man of the Sea. 
England, in the long treatment of poor Ireland, and recently 
in the treatment of her own poor (to whom she owes her 
prosperity), has been showing that she is of that class of 
idiots who dare, by their actions, to affirm that there is no 
God. She has sinned against the Lord, and her sins have 
at length found her out ! 

Never since the days of the tyrant king John has England 
ceased to rob her unoffending neighbour, whose perpetual 
internal commotions enabled her so to do with impunity, 
Ireland was always a miserable country, and her too near 
neighbour was base enough to ti 
ings, to plunder and enslave her. 



SELECT KEHAINS OE SAMUEL ROBEKTS. 211 

Under every English monarch, during six hundred years, 
from John to George III. — whether kings or queens, or 
protectors — whether Catholics or Protestants — poor Ireland 
has been oppressed and pillaged by them in every way. 
Rarely at unity, either in herself or with others, how could 
she do otherwise than fall ? Her natives have never had an 
opportunity afforded them of settling down into an har- 
monious and steady people. Till the reign of the wife- 
murdering brute — the Defender of the Faith — Henry VIII., 
the English monarchs had contented themselves with con- 
quering one seigniory after another, — expelling or murder- 
ing the native lord, and bestowing the domain on English 
proprietors, generally residing at home, and having their rents 
sent there to be expended. He, however, went father than 
this : he found the victim of brutal force sufficiently sub- 
jected to encourage him to much greater lengths of robbing 
and oppression,. A great proportion of the lay property of the 
country was in the possession of Englishmen, but the im- 
mense property of the Church still remained in the posses- 
sion of their own clergy, unmolestedly teaching and enforcing 
the so-called Catholic faith of their country and their fore- 
fathers. This was alone a tempting bait, but, besides this, 
the pious monarch had for powerful reasons embraced the 
reformed doctrines, which declared the Catholic religion to 
be idolatrous and damnable. Henry never stuck at trifles. 
The English monarchs had till then been content with the 
title of Lords of Ireland. By act of parliament he, how- 
ever, assumed that of King, and in effect that of Pope, i. e. 
head of both Church and State. Eor the good of their 
souls he commanded all Catholics, both clergy and laity, to 
become Protestants, on pain of forfeiting their houses and 



212 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

domains, if not then liberty and lives. The new proprietors 
of forfeited estates were to be all English Protestants, and 
their tenants and domestics the same. Henry was a straight- 
forward reformer, whether in England or Ireland, in Church 
or State. He was something like the Dragon of Wantley; 
to him 

" Castles, lords, queens, and churches, 
TTere no more than geese and turkeys." 

There was, I believe, less of fighting during the reign of 
Henry than that of almost any British monarch during five 
hundred years. His strides in the road of despotism were 
so rapid and so large that the poor Irish, like his queens, 
seemed hardly to know whether either their heads or their 
souls were their own for a day. I fancy that the Pope was 
something in the same predicament, for he was very still. 
Well, but all this tyranny, though likely enough to reduce 
the people to brutality and slavery, could not lead them 
either to desire, or to acquire, habits of steady industry, or 
to become a well-informed and orderly people. They owe 
it to England, that they are not either richer or better than 
they are. Even the reign of good Queen Bess afforded no 
respite to the sufferings and wrongs of poor Ireland. There 
was but one human being to whose sufferings, rights, and 
wrongs tl lis tender-hearted monarch paid much attention, 
and that was herself. No matter whether t lay were friends 
or foes, rivals or lovers, male or female, if they offended 
her, their heads paid the penally. 

Perhaps we cannot have a better specimen of the way in 
which the poor Irish were treated, than that of Gerald, Earl 



SELECT REMAINS OE SAMUEL ROBERTS. 213 

of Desmond. Goaded, perhaps, beyond bearing by the ex- 
actions of the queen's tyrannical father, he might hope, 
under the reign of a youthful monarch, to recover some of 
the rights of which he had been robbed. His domain, to 
which he had at least as great a right as the queen had to 
her dominions, extended, in a highly populous part of the 
south of Ireland, more than a hundred and fifty miles, — 
and he could command of his own people six hundred 
cavalry and two thousand foot soldiers : his wealth was in 
proportion. He was then a venerable grey-headed old man, 
accustomed to command. This was not a man that could 
be expected to endure patiently the tyrannical insult, dicta- 
tions, and spoliations of a foreign despot ; at any rate, not 
without an effort to free himself of them, especially of those 
of them which were, he conceived, calculated to deprive 
himself and his people of what was essential to the salva- 
tion of their souls. 

Taking advantage, then, of the aid of some Spanish 
troops, the aged monarch assembled what forces he could to 
withstand foreign aggression. This at once aroused the 
vengeful feelings of one who brooked no equal. This she 
termed rebellion, and its author a traitor, setting a price 
on the old man's head. She immediately sent over a large 
additional army under the command of Earl Grey. The 
contest was not long ; the feeble veteran headed his own 
troops. His army was undisciplined, and his foreign troops 
deceived him. His invaders were his vanquishers. Dispirited 
and heart-broken, the poor old Earl fled with a few followers 
for concealment to a deep, lonely wooded dell, where he was 
found in a ruinous cabin, almost alone, by his pursuers, by 
whom he was wounded, and, on his calling out, in hope of 



214 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

being spared, that he was the Earl of Desmond, immediately 
murdered. The head of the venerable victim was then cut 
oil', and sent to satisfy the bloody cravings of the Virgin 
Queen, who, that she might be occasionally gratified on her 
splendid progresses to the city, with a sight of the grey 
hairs of the venerable defender of his own possessions float- 
ing in the wind, had it stuck upon Temple Bar. But this was 
not all. Tor the crime of having sacrificed his life in defence 
of his hereditary dominions, the freedom and lives, and (as he 
believed) the souls of Ins subjects, his invader and destroyer 
confiscated his possessions, and banished or enslaved his 
people. His land was then divided into allotments of 
seigniories and conveyed to English possessors on certain 
quit rents to be paid to the crown. Among them were the 
following : — 

Sir Walter Raleigh . . . 42,000 

Arthur Robins .... 18,000 

EaneBucker 12,000 

Hugh Worth 12,000 

Arthur Hyde 11,766 

Sir Thomas Norris . . . 6,000 

Sir Eichard Beacon . . . 6,000 

Sir Wareham St. Leger . . 6,000 

Hugh Cuff 6,000 

Thomas Jay 5,775 

Sir Arthur Hyde .... 5,774 

Edmund Spencer .... 3,029 

The foregoing may serve as specimens of the proceedings 
of England against poor Ireland, during the first three 
hundred years from John, nor were the succeeding ones 



SELECT REMAINS OP SAMUEL ROBERTS. 215 

better, during six or eight reigns. Whether kings or 
queens, or protectors — English, Scotch, or Dutch — all were 
agreed in robbing and afflicting poor Ireland. 

To describe those horrible proceedings against her, during 
those reigns, would be to write a history of the times. 
Strict investigations, by interested Englishmen, were made 
throughout the country, among the resident native Catholic 
land proprietors, into the way in which they had complied 
with the tyrannical restrictions imposed upon them by 
their conquerors, ending, as was intended, by the forfeiture 
of about three thousand estates to be disposedjof to Eng- 
lish proprietors, and occupied by Englishmen. 

The pious usurper, Oliver, in order to enable him, as a 
Christian warrior, to shew how dearly he could love even 
his enemies, so depopulated the country that cultivators of 
the soil could not be found, — the greater part of which soil 
had been confiscated and distributed so profusely, that com- 
mon soldiers became considerable proprietors of land, given 
them for arrears of pay. Subscriptions to a large amount 
had been raised in England to subdue Ireland, the contri- 
butors to be repaid by confiscated estates. By these and 
other base means, not less than three thousand ancient and 
respectable Irish families were stripped of their fortunes 
and inheritance without even the form of a trial. Matters 
were not much mended with poor Ireland during the follow- 
ing reigns, each succeeding one increasing her degradation, 
her poverty, and her sufferings. The battle of the Boyne 
seemed to complete her subjugation, but not her humiliation. 
She felt (and still feels) her wrongs, but could not redress 
them. They were, and are, indeed irreparable. 

From the invasion of the Danes, in the ninth century, 



216 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

poor Ireland seems never to have known a year unaffected 
by intestine war, either of home or foreign origin. She 
has throughout been the victim of circumstances over which 
she had no control. She kept no army, no navy (though 
with the finesf ports in (he world), for the invasion of other 
countries. Nature, or rather God, seems to have done every 
thing requisite to lit Ireland to become one of the finest, 
most productive, most prosperous and happy countries in 
the world, — but man has rendered it the reverse of all 
these. And who has done this ? England (who is now 
sending, almost profusely, her millions of specie to preserve 
her poor perishing neighbours from death) may now enquire. 
"And Nathan s<ti<J unto David THOU art the man!' 
Yes, England has been the cause of all this misery to Ire- 
land ; not the cause of the potato rot, but the cause of her 
being brought to feed on potatoes, and to such a state of 
poverty, that a partial failure of the potato crop must cause 
the death of hundreds of thousands of her subjects. During 
six hundred years, she has been gradually draining. By the 
rents sent to, and spent by, the absentee landlords in other 
countries, she is deprived of that blood whose continual 
circulation at home is essential to the sustaining of life in 
the body ; she must, therefore, die at last of exhaustion. 
The mighty empire of England is now alarmed by being 
called upon to contribute £10,000,000 or £20,000,000 
for one year, to be spent in Ireland : a very small part tliis, 
of the debt which she owes her, — for what is tins when 
compared to the enormous millions which have, during 
hundreds of years, been transmitted from poor, and gradu- 
ally exhausting Ireland, to support in voluptuous, and 
perhaps riotous living, in England and other countries, the 



SELECT REMAINS OP SAMUEL ROBERTS. 217 

plunderers and forsakers of the victim country ? The 
exhaustion seems now complete, — she can no longer support 
herself. 

It is now, I believe, more than thirty years since I pub- 
lished "A Defence of the Poor Laws," i. e. of the good and 
righteous old English Poor Laws ; and in that, when stating 
the different progress of England and Ireland in riches 
and civilization since the time when the one adopted them, 
and the other remained without them, I stated my convic- 
tion that the latter country could not long continue to exist 
without resident landowners, and Poor Laws similar to those 
of England, nor be at peace within herself so long as she 
had a state religion which was not the religion of the people, 
whatever that religion might be. All experience on the 
subject since has served to confirm me in that opinion. She 
has already become poor and miserable in herself, and an 
expensive, annoying burden to England, as well as a most 
dangerous neighbour. Neither half measures nor wicked 
measures will do. No : not even general public fasts ! It 
may be said that measures like these can never be acceded 
to. I fear not ; then there is but one alternative. I pro- 
posed that every owner of a hundred acres in Ireland should 
be compelled to reside a certain portion of each year in the 
country; with the privilege, if he preferred it, of selling 
his estates to those who would purchase them, subject to 
those conditions. Enormous as is the amount of rents and 
product sent annually out of Ireland, for which there are no 
returns, it is comparatively little to the innumerable other 
causes of loss to that country arising from non-resident land- 
owners. The loss of money that she is deprived of from that 
cause is small to that of the confidence (which is the 

L 



218 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

as money) that is expelled the country. Labour, too, is 
riches; and labour is smothered by middlemen in potato 
cabins, in which nothing is looked for further by the 
inmates than a bare means of existence. Tor want of resi- 
dent landlords, civilization cannot advance; on the contrary, 
it is cast back, and a state of wild ferocity engendered ; the 
poor looking upon the middlemen of the rich as tyrants, 
who, perhaps, unknown to the absentee landlords, are 
racking them, and treating them as slaves. They are often, 
therefore, driven to desperation. Under these circum- 
stances neither property nor life is in safety. Xo one will 
risk Ins property in manufactures in Ireland which he can 
carry on in England. The absence of land proprietors both 
withdraws rents and the demand for labour. It diminisheth 
confidence ; it produces enmity and ferocity ; it drives 
away manufactures, and, consequently, employment for the 
poor ; it at the same time multiplies itself. One landowner 
leaving the country will have a tendency to induce others to 
do the same. Men who can, will have rational society, 
something of their own rank ; nor will they spend their 
money in improving a country in which they cannot reside. 
On the present system Ireland cannot go on. Nor is it 
the fault of the poor ; they are what the rich, and untoward 
circumstances, have made them : nor are they worse than 
the poor of other countries ; in many respeets I think that 
they are superior. Let this country do what she will for 
Ireland, unless she can have resident landlords she must 
and will go on increasing in misery and in trouble, in cost 
and in annoyance to England. 

Every one must be convinced how much easier it is to 
expose and abuse wrong measures, when the evils of 



SELECT REMAINS OP SAMUEL ROBERTS. 219 

them have become apparent, than it is to point out an 
effectual remedy for the evils, or to deter from the repetition 
of such practices, especially if they promise speedy, though 
fleeting, emoluments. This remark applies to both indi- 
vidual and national transactions. As regards the latter, the 
history of the world affords innumerable instances of the 
evils resulting from that base, sordid, grasping at the 
dominions of other nations or people, which has been 
almost universal. The result has been invariably injurious, 
and, when long continued, ruinous. To shew this, we need 
not go further back than to " the subjugators of the world" — 
the Romans : from them coming forward to the Portuguese, 
the Dutch, the Spaniards, the English, and the Americans. 
Look at all these, and which of them — on whom the practice 
has had time to operate and produce its inevitable effects — 
has not been ruined by it ? Have not all these nations in 
their turns been for a while wallowing in luxury from the 
proceeds of their conquered colonies, and each of them — save 
only England (which most certainly is on the eve of it) — 
been eventually so reduced as to be unable to pay their 
national debts. Colonies are always, if long-continued, 
ruinous. No greater blessing was ever vouchsafed to 
England than her being deprived of her North American 
possessions; wliile the retention of her West India ones 
are the greatest curse. Her East India ones are becoming 
the same, as will, eventually, all her others become. 

As regards poor Ireland, hers is a desperate case, and 
nothing less than a desperate remedy can save her. If, how- 
ever, England had the justice, the honesty, and the courage 
to apply the remedy, a very few years would suffice to con- 



220 AUTOBIOGRAPHY A>'D 

vince all parties conn rued, that the doing justly and shewing 
mercy is the best policy. I will just furnish a rough out- 
line of the plan which I propose. Let it be enacted, that at 
a certain period — say at the end of three years — Ireland 
shall become, with a few exceptions, a free and indejpen* 
dent state : left to form her own government, having no 
dependence upon England, farther than as regards the naval 
and military forces, — to the providing and maintaining of 
which Ireland must contribute, by means decreed by her own 
parliament, a certain proportion. The direction of the forces 
to rest solely on the British Government. Previous to the 
commencement of the independence of Ireland, every absentee 
owner of more than a hundred acres of land to be required 
either to engage to reside a certain portion of his time in 
each year on his estate, or otherwise to sell it to those who 
will purchase it on those terms : but no purchaser to ha\ e 
more than a thousand acres. The State Relit/ion to be 
abolished as the present incumbents die off. The emolu- 
ments to revert to, or rather be bestowed on, the State ; and, 
afterwards, the clergy of each denomination to be appointed 
and provided for by their respective congregations. Could 
this plan be adopted, Ireland would, I am persuaded, soon 
become one of the most prosperous and happy countries in 
the world ; while it would become to England the most ex- 
tensive and profitable mart. The immense quantity of good 
land now out of cultivation, or ill cultivated, would, on the 
multiplication of resident owners — bringing riches and con- 
fidence into the country — afford constant employment to 
labourers, none of whom Mould then need to emigrate. The 
very passing of the Act would, I feel assured, so raise the 



SELECT REMAINS OE SAMUEL ROBERTS. 221 

value of land as to enable the great absentee landowners to 
dispose of their property, on the proposed terms, greatly to 
their advantage, 

I am strongly opposed to sudden and great changes ; but 
here, one such is inevitable. Great, certainly, will be the 
outcry of the Established Church. I can safely inform the 
clergy of that Church, that I am persuaded there is not a 
single rational one among them all who is more opposed to, 
and astonished at, those practices and doctrines of the 
Eoman Catholic Church, which clearly appear to me to have 
been implanted by Mammon on the pure and purely spiritual 
religion of Jesus Christ, than I am. But I differ from them 
in a Christian spirit. I hold them as much entitled to jus- 
tice as the Protestants, whose failings differ from theirs, I 
think, principally in degree, while even that degree seems 
daily lessening. 

It must be recollected that the Church property in Ireland 
originated with Catholics : the Protestants possessed them- 
selves of it by might, not by right. The aggression, then, 
was there 1 However superior Protestantism might be to 
Catholicism, Christianity did not sanction robbery in insti- 
tuting one for the other. Let, then, the Protestants recollect, 
that the sufferings which may be endured, by the gradual 
withdrawal of the property of the Church by the State, has 
arisen from the more dreadful, unrequired, Mammonitish 
inflictions exercised on the original rightful possessors — 
though perhaps abusers — of the property. The sins of na- 
tions rarely fail, in the end, to find them out. Pure Chris- 
tianity requires — admits of — but little worldly wealth to pro- 
mote and maintain it. It never requires either injustice or 
persecution. That cannot be politically right, and lastingly 



B82 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

beneficial, which is religiously wrong. Let Ireland have 
justice done her by England, and she will, instead of being 
a burden to Britain, soon become the brightest and most 
precious gem in her diadem. 

Samuel Roberts. 

This was copied into various Irish newspapers. 



The date of the following paper is April 5 th, 1847 : — 

EASTER; OR, THE CONTRAST. 

To the Editor of the "Independent" 
Sir, 

Walking near noon on the Saturday intervening be- 
tween Good Friday and Easter Sunday, in grounds where 
there is a spacious, elegant, well furnished, and well con- 
ducted conservatory, to which I have free access, I was in- 
duced, from the following circumstances, to profit by the 
privilege : — 

The air was exceedingly cold, though the sun shone bright, 
and the atmosphere was so splendid as to appear transparent 
under an immense azure dome. Soon, however, the deep 
blue became duller and duller. A few small flakes of snow 
began to fall, becoming larger and falling faster. The earth 
soon became enveloped in a spotless white winding-sheet. 
This appeared striking when it was recollected that this 
was the day appointed to commemorate the one on which 
the body of Jesus Christ lay in the grave. Everything 
around was indistinct, cold, and cheerless. I hastened to 
the conservator}'. I entered, and stood astonished ! Often 
had I seen it, and always with admiration, but now with 



SELECT REMAINS OE SAMUEL ROBERTS. 223 

feelings of awful reverence. I had come out at once from a 
death-like, cold, and cheerless world, into what appeared to 
be a place, to human faculties, almost resembling heaven. If 
there be a temple on earth in which God delighteth to dwell 
and to be worshipped more than in the temple within, I 
should then have said, — This is that temple. Here all was 
His workmanship ; and all was lovely, all was good, all was 
astonishing — for all was perfect. The air was pure and 
warm ; the sight was brilliantly magnificent ; the odour de- 
licious. No sound was heard save the faint humming of a 
few luxuriating bees, which had here obtained a refuge from 
destruction, and seemed to be expressing in simple tones 
their gratitude and praise. 

The contrast between the world which I had left, and the 
one which I had entered, was greater than can be described. 
The former — the sight of which the crystal-barrier (on whose 
warm surface the snow could not rest) freely admitted — 
presented the semblance of some keen Siberian winter, in 
which all living things had perished. The latter was like — 
what ? Like nothing on earth but itself ! It appeared an 
assemblage of almost all vegetable things most lovely in 
nature, and that in their highest state of perfection, here as- 
sembled together from every region of the earth, whether 
from the torrid, the temperate, or the frigid zone, and all 
arranged so as to be seen to the greatest advantage. From, 
the floor to the highest ridge — tier above tier — all the colours 
of the rainbow seemed striving to obtain notice and admira- 
tion for themselves and adoration for their Creator. To at- 
tempt to particularize them would be an absurdity. The 
conservatory consisted of three compartments, each of dif- 
ferent degrees of warmth : one that of an English Spring, 



2H i AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

one an English Summer, and one a tropical Summer ; so 
that each inhabitant could at all times have the degree of 
warmth which was best for it. As none were admitted here 
but what were healthy and lovely, decay and death obtruded 
not. So clean, indeed, was every tiling, that scarcely a speck 
of defilement could be perceived, even on the floor. Not 
only was all here good, but all was beautiful ; thousands — 
perhaps millions — as were the wonderful works of God here 
exhibited, each, as it would appear, reproducing its like, — 
not a shrub, not a flower, not a leaf among them all, could 
any human being, working at it through the longest life, 
produce in equal perfection. 

Standing facing this astonishing display of the wonderful 
works of God, with the back turned on the unseen, unfelt, 
cold, and cheerless world, and looking before and on either 
hand upon the glorious scene, how contemptible appeared all 
the noblest and the proudest works of man ! What to this 
the St. Paul's of London, the St. Peter's of Kome, or the 
first Temple of Solomon of Jerusalem ! They were as no- 
thing ! — they were made by man, and man can make others 
equal to them. Perhaps the new Houses of Parliament sur- 
pass them all. But the skill and labour of all mankind, 
exerted for ages, could not produce a plant or a flower equal 
to the seemingly most insignificant of these. Half an hour 
had passed: the snow continued to fall in an unabated 
degree. During that period, within a moderate district, 
hundreds — if not thousands — of tons weight had fallen from 
out that thin, translucent atmosphere which could not sus- 
tain a feather. Oh, how manifold, how astonishing, and 
how glorious are all the works of God ! In wisdom, in 
power, in mercy, and in love, hath He made them all ! The 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 225 

earth within and without, — the sea and the heavens above, — 
are all full of His marvellous works. 

Can any two things be conceived as forming a stronger 
contrast than the two which have been here exhibited; 
though both of them equally wonderful' ? I know but of 
one instance; that of the period (then commemorating) 
when all the inhabitants of the earth had just been rescued 
from a state of hopeless condemnation by the death of the 
Saviour of the world, who had by that death paid their 
ransom, and had opened the gates of heaven to all who, by 
faith and obedience, should avail themselves of the dearly 
purchased inestimable privilege. This was, indeed, a greater 
contrast still. 

Observer. 

No one who has perused the preceding part of tins volume 
can need the information that none of their foremost oppo- 
nents were more opposed, in principle, to the Eoman Catholic 
form of worship, than was the subject of this memoir ; while 
no one who is conversant with Ins communications to the 
Sheffield newspapers can require to be told how often he was 
called out by his sense of justice, his desire for fair play, 
and his wish to promote peace, as the Champion of the 
Eoman Catholics, in cases wherein he believed them to be 
the injured party. Of this general candour the following 
letter to the Editor of the Sheffield Iris may be given as an 



:^:M AUTi' 



SIR ARNOLD KNIGHT AND THE EDITOR OF THE "SHEFFIELD 
MERCURY." 

To the Editor of the "Sheffield Iris." 
Sir, 

I do not recollect reading anything in a public news- 
paper with more astonishment and contempt than an article 
in the last Sheffield Mercury, reflecting on the conduct of 
our late townsman, Sir Arnold Knight, while lately visiting 
Ireland. Sir Arnold had a dear friend, who, from untoward 
circumstances, had been officially led to reside in that un- 
happy country in the vortex of famine and pestilence. He 
caught the contagious disease, and when Sir Arnold heard 
of him he was not expected to live long. Sir Arnold hesi- 
tated not — he lost not a moment, deterred neither by per- 
sonal inconvenience nor risk of life, — unsolicited and un- 
remunerated, he left his dear and alarmed family and nume- 
rous patients, and he hastened to attempt the rescue from 
death of his beloved friend . The succourer arrived too late ! 
Surely after this, under such circumstances, Sir Arnold could 
not be expected to linger in Ireland long. It was not phy- 
sicians that they were in want of. But it seems that some 
mercenary writer for the Times, who knew not Sir Arnold, 
sent to that paper an article for insertion reflecting on the 
conduct of Sir Arnold and others for not stopping to get the 
tumble-down cabins of the poor dying victims repaired. 
Now this common day-work of the paragraph writer nobody 
would have regarded, and it would have slept at once ; but 
this afforded too favourable an opportunity for our Sheffield 
sdi ial supporter of the Church for pleasing his patrons, by 



SELECT REMAINS OP SAMUEL ROBERTS. 227 

a slur on the Catholics. Sir Arnold Knight is a Catholic : 
the Editor of the Sheffield Mercury is not one — neither 
am I, yet I have no hesitation in stating rny belief, that if he 
(the Editor) was a Catholic, and as good a one as Sir Arnold 
is, he would be a no worse Christian than he now is. The 
Editor of the Mercury has known Dr. Knight, as a Shef- 
fielder, during a quarter of a century. Has he ever known 
any man, during so long a period, deserving of, or possessing, 
more of general esteem than he? Did the Editor ever know 
him, as a public man, suspected of meanness, or of being 
actuated by selfish, mercenary motives ? I think that he 
never did ! 

The paragraph which the Editor of the Mercury has 
inserted, concludes with the following observation: — " Surely 
a little open-work in the roof would be an improvement ! 
Yes, doubtless it would ; and what was there to prevent 'our 
visitor nearest the door' from putting his hand in his pocket 
and giving a carpenter half-a-crown to make the opening ? 
What was there to prevent Dr. Sir Arnold Knight, the 
Rev. C. Caulfield, Dr. Donovan, or the Rev. Richard Boyle 
Townsend, from sending for half-a-dozen labourers, and 
seeing that graves were made for the dead that were infecting 
the air ? They might have done this, though no aid from 
England had been sent to Skibbereen !" 

Now this is said of Sir Arnold Knight, when hazarding 
everything dear to him to serve a dying friend, by the 
Editor of the Sheffield Mercury, sitting at home at ease, 
without stirring a step to serve either the poor or his 
friends, but rather battening on the misery of the former, 
and profiting by the favours of the others. But of what 
has he and the mercenary Times-server to accuse Sir Arnold ? 



£28 .\i roBiOGaAPHi and 

Why of not leaving half-a-crown, perhaps to do mischief. 
But does the Editor think that Sir Arnold is even such an 
one as himself, publishing a weekly report of his good 
deeds ? No ! Sir Arnold is no caterer for fame ; he is 
rather, I conceive, one whose left hand hardly knows of the 
good that his right hand is doing. What Sir Arnold did 
in Ireland of good, besides performing his hazardous work 
of love and mercy, we have not yet been told : but I do 
hope that he will yet favour us with an account of what he 
witnessed, and of as much of what he did as he may think 
right. I really think that there ought to be a public 
expression of general indignation. I know how greatly the 
calumny has pained many of Sir Arnold's friends. 
Yours, &c. 

S. Roberts. 
Park Grange, April 27, 184-7. 

The three foregoing animated papers are not far divided 
in date, being all written about the period when he com- 
pleted his eighty-fourth year, as may be here mentioned, in 
connection with the fact, that, so far as any period can be 
fixed, that was the period of the commencement of Ins 
gradual decline. Then it was that he first alluded to it : 
the allusion being, as was usual with him, when he had a 
serious meaning to convey, half jocular, and (with habitual 
consideration in such things for the feelings of others) was 
almost the only allusion to the subject that he ever made. 

During the last year or two of his life he seemed to 
experience a more heart-felt sympathy than before with 
every sufferer, a more tender attachment to every friend and 
relative, and a more ardent aspiration after the presence of 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL EOBEETS. 229 

his God. At the same time he showed no diminution of 
interest in the general affairs of society, nor yet in the avo- 
cations of business and taste. In the last year he became 
the means of introducing to practice as a portrait-painter an 
artist of great talent, entering with undiminished interest 
into the details of his works, to the execution of which he 
contributed many a friendly hint. 

He continued his noontide rides during the winter, and 
resumed his afternoon and evening walks in the spring ; nor 
was it till within a few months of his death that his favou- 
rite haunts saw him no more. 

A week or two before the recurrence of his birth-day he 
became ill, with an accession of cough and cold. Then he 
felt that his work was done. He resigned lus offices of 
Trustee of the Boys' Charity School, and Treasurer of the 
Aged Female Society. He was now no longer able to walk 
much in the open air ; nor would he submit to be wheeled 
on the walks in a Bath chair, which, he said, would be too 
like an old man. 

In the few months of rapid bodily decay which imme- 
diately preceded his dissolution, he published various pam- 
phlets on subjects of local interest, accompanied with his 
usual humorous touches. 

The following passages from one of them, illustrative of 
the Properties of Water, shows that his taste for science 
had not forsaken him : — 

" Water, it appears to me, may be considered as the soul 
of this material world which we inhabit : it pervades the 
whole, any portion of which, if deprived of it, would be 
dead. Its nature and place is in some degree continually 
changing, and yet it is probable that there is neither a drop 



230 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

more or less of it now than there was at the Creation. 
Though the most simple of the elements, it is the most 
powerful : an infant may guide it, but a world cannot resist 
it. It has been the instrument by which all the stupendous 
innumerable changes in tins material world which have 
taken place since the Creation have been effected. Though 
hard as adamant, the breath of a child can soften it : though 
incompressible, a few drops of it may be expanded so as to 
fill a room. While it can rise on buoyant wings to the 
utmost perceptible boundary of the atmosphere, pervading 
the whole, it penetrates downward through innumerable 
mineral strata, even to beneath the lowest of them, till it 
meets with its inveterate foe — the molten mass of central 
liquid Jire — destined eventually to destroy it. The contest 
then becomes dreadful : swollen with rage, the encumbered 
mass of rocks — miles in thickness — cannot withstand its 
irresistible efforts to obtain room for the display of its power 
in effecting its escape. It raises up the mighty mass, with, 
perhaps, the ocean upon it, till even the lowest strata, the 
granite rock, is upheaved till it becomes like the inside of a 
cupola, bursting at the top, and affording an opening 
through which the rage of the irresistible fluid may in time 
be lessened, if not spent. 

In the infancy of the world, when the crust was 
thinner, and of course hotter, these tremendous explosions, 
it is evident, were of frequent and very general occurrence. 
Thus were the mighty volcanic mountains formed, some of 
which remain open, as safety-valves, to this day. Through 
these the enraged Proteus drove in its wrath its inveterate 
foe, casting out, in liquid fire, irresistible floods of it, to flow 
down the steep sides of the mountains which it had raised, 



SELECT REMAINS Ol 1 SAMUEL ROBERTS. £31 

destroying everything, and burying in its way even the far- 
off cities of the plains, or driving back even the deep waters 
of the ocean boiling over the quaking earth ; and laying the 
former bed of the mighty waters bare, covering the dry 
land with the waters of the sea, and its numerous inhabi- 
tants. It has done more than this : it has vomited with 
the fire enormous detached mighty fragments of rocks, hurl- 
ing them high into the atmosphere to fall scattered on eVery 
side of the new-formed mountains. These things have the 
gently flowing waters, as instruments in the hands of the 
Almighty, achieved, gradually bringing the material world, 
stage by stage, to a state requisite to God's pre-ordained 
purposes, viz. to its present state. By His ordainment 
have those waters, in ages when man and beasts existed not, 
covered enormous tracts with the overthrown mighty forests, 
— forests upon forests, — and covered them up deep as in their 
graves with mineral deposits ; repeating this process tier 
above tier, and leaving them to become in subsequent ages 
(when man had peopled the earth, and when natural forests 
should have become scarce) beds of coal as requisite fuel 
for new and numerous purposes. 

" Nor are these all. Go, visit the Arctic Ocean ! What 
see you there ? Islands, almost continents, of solid rocks ; 
rocks of crystal, rising perpendicularly from the sea, to 
enormous heights. Watch the mighty masses closely ! 
They move ! they float in water ! and what are they corn^ 
posed off ? They are water, too ! High as these mighty 
masses of solid water rise above the surface of the sea, they 
descend twice as much below it in that which though fluid 
is composed of the same material as themselves. Bot i 

water. Of water, too, consist those light and feathery 



232 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

flakes, which now you see falling from the heavens above, 
so densely as to hide the light of the mid-day sun, and 
covering deep with a still winter mantle the solid moving 
masses of the same element as themselves. But see another 
change ! The feathery flakes are superseded by a driving 
storm of crystal pebbles of various sizes, dashing the fluid 
water into foam, and bouncing high in seeming merry- 
dance when they fall on the crystal rock. These, too, are 
water ! Such, too, is in a great measure the seemingly 
pellucid atmosphere, through whose pure medium, ere while 
before the storms, the sun shone forth in bright unsullied 
majesty. Yet in that light, rare, transparent atmosphere, 
were then sustained the thousands of tons of water which 
composed that snow and hail, which has now come down to 
be again transmuted to its liquid state — of water, salt or 
fresh, till, after innumerable changes, it may be again taken 
up as vapour into that atmosphere from which we have seen 
it descend. 

" How water is employed in liquid air is yet unknown : it 
there exists in millions of tons weight, and has no doubt 
to do with the production — though we know not how — of 
thunder and lightning, of meteors, and even of meteoric 
stones. To it we are indebted for the beauteous rainbow, as 
well as for the often still more beauteous clouds, which 
assemble to bid good night to the retiring sun/' 

Thus, then (with two exceptions), is completed the 
number of selections from the writings of Samuel Eoberts 
proposed to be given here, presenting on review a some- 
what anomalous, and perhaps, in other respects, in- 
teresting example in the history of mind — interesting as 
being that of an individual without any education beyond 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 233 

an elementary English one ; biassed by no authority, guided 
by no rules, receiving no external aids but such as he 
selected, procured, and arranged for himself, by his own 
original powers of reflection, quietly making his way till, in 
the latter portion of a life whose duration verged on four- 
score years and ten, he reached a ground, historical, scientific, 
political, social, and religious, on which he came forward a 
busy actor on the theatre of life, — (his want of human learn- 
ing — by himself unregretted — was doubtless to be regretted ; 
what he would have been with it, is but a theme for con- 
jecture — what he found out without it, the readers of this 
volume have had the opportunity of judging for themselves), 
— anomalous, as supplying an inverse representation of 
the most usual character of the course of the life of man : 
his first ten years having been years of misery — almost 
his only unhappy ones — while a document, yet to be given, 
shews that his last ten years were " the happiest of an un- 
usually happy life." His childhood sought as its best 
solace " to get away alone where he could muse, and weep, 
and exclaim unheard :" his age (enlivened by the ever ready 
jest and the willing playmate of infancy) was occupied by the 
varied and practically successful pursuits of taste, or engaged 
in the investigations of science, as well as busied in the 
duties of benevolence, and brightened by a hope full of im- 
mortality. During the first half of his life he was a reserved, 
retiring, and strictly private character ; during the last, pro- 
minent on all occasions where he considered the real interests 
of his fellow- creatures involved, plain-spoken, unyielding, 
bearing the brunt of obloquy with intrepidity and firmness. 
Lastly, at that period of life when the talents of other men are 
at their zenith, or even verging on a gradual decline, his 



l-W AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

talents first appeared. Thenceforward the most happy effu- 
sions of his mind increased in variety and in power, perhaps 
to the end of life : those happier effusions (be is aid in truth 
and candour) being sometimes scattered among a mass of 
more or less inferior character, sufficient (while the higher 
efforts showed how rich the germs which were the native 
product of Ins mind) to show also that the soil was un- 
cultured from which they grew. 

A few days before Iris death, unable to write, he was dic- 
tating to his attendant a paper, which, though designed for 
the press, did not obtain publication, being sent for inser- 
tion to one of the Sheffield newspapers, and refused. The 
interest attached to the circumstances under which it was 
written, had it no other, Mould demand its insertion here. 



NEW COLONY IN THE HOLLOW MEADOWS. 

To the present Overseers and Guardians of the Poor of the Sheffield 
Union. 

Gentlemen, 

Little able and disposed as I am at present to 
write at all, I feel compelled by a sense of duty to God and 
to my fellow-creatures to attempt it once more, at least, on 
seeing in the last number of what I must still deem the 
" Drunkard's Advocate" four columns, all commendatory 
of the plan named at the head of this address. Many, 
indeed, have been the horrible plans promulgated from the 
same source of evil, some of which have been adopted, some 
discarded, and some happily frustrated, but never — never 
any one fraught with the evil that this is. Surely, surely, 



SELECT REMAINS OE SAMUEL ROBERTS. 235 

gentlemen, you all left Jericho too soon : pray, wait a little 
longer ! wait a little longer ! The happiness of hundreds 
and thousands, now born or unborn, may in life and in 
eternity be the sacrifice of this non-digested plan. 

During the last few weeks of glorious weather, I have 
on several Monday mornings had occasion to ride down the 
Manchester Road about 12 o'clock, thus passing nearly 
opposite to the two new reservoirs. Each time, when there, 
we met various parties and stragglers (not excavators) of 
highly respectable-looking young working men, few of them 
appearing to be more than thirty years of age. There was 
a serious sedateness in the looks and manner of each of 
them, which in such groups I never witnessed before : 
there was no hilarity, no smile, scarcely a word spoken, 
in a scene calculated to call forth gladness, even from the 
aged. They all appeared to have one object in view, and 
that an unpleasant one. They were intelligent-looking, 
clean, and, for such persons, well dressed. The scenery 
was sublime : they were on a good road, surrounded by 
primeval mountains and vallies, never before contaminated 
by the wickedness and misery of town-accumulated mortals, 
— yet the young men were not happy, though assembled 
youth is not easily depressed. 

There was no difficulty in learning who they were, nor 
what their lamentable destination. They were the hope of 
the rising Sheffield generation : from these were expected 
to spring her future Mayors, Magistrates, Aldermen, and 
Councillors. These are of the number of those who have 
devoted the seven most important years of their lives to 
qualify them for obtaining and passing a future life of 
usefulness and comfort : and this sad state is what they 



230 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

have obtained, — a state which the Guardians of the Poor 
seem to deem so eligible as to have caused them to assemble 
on the High Moors to lay a first stone, where the first 
stone has lain from the Creation. This exceeds the assem- 
bling of the wise men of Gotham, being the assembling of 
the whole of the Gothamites to the disturbance of the 
peaceful feathered race, and of the affrighted numerous 
bilberry-gatherers of both sexes and all ages, the alarm 
extending from Glossop Inn to Moscar House, — from 
Rivelin Mill, even to the Lord's Seat. 

Now, when much prayer was said, and the foundation of 
a splendid future colony of comfort and happiness laid, all 
the wise men and fools of Gotham returned down the 
astonished valley, to the delight of the people of Sheffield, 
with the joyful tidings, in a style and with countenances 
very different from those of the poor young men whom they 
had assembled as slaves to take possession of the assumed 
future colony. 

If the undeliberatiug, upstart, hasty expenders of the 
public money now lavishly put into their hands, could and 
would look through future years, or even through a few 
months, to the inevitable result of their proceedings, what a 
sight would then meet their astonished gaze ! Let them 
conceive what the same party would find, on visiting 
together (after a hard winter) in the beginning of February, 
the supposed flourishing colony which they had planted. 
In what way will these poor young men then be found (if 
found at all) to have passed the long, cold, wet, and dreary 
nights of winter? Without proper employment, or light, or 
fuel, from three to four hundred in number, all young ! It 
is to be remembered that the vile will always be the leaders, 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 237 

Will those who have outlived the period have formed no 
visiting acquaintance ? and of what kind will they be ? 
Where and what will the decent clothes, which they now 
possess, be found? Where then the sobriety of manner 
which now attaches to them ? We have seen what these 
poor victims are now, when going to their weekly toil on 
glorious summer days. Let us try to imagine them re- 
turning from their work at twelve o'clock on a Saturday 
early in February, on a dreadfully stormy day, with a north 
wind blowing the snow and sleet directly in the faces of the 
exhausted multitude, plodding ankle deep in limestone mud. 
You may imagine some of the horrors experienced by them 
during the preceding week. Could this society exist, 
Pandemonium could not exceed it in wickedness ! Are you 
going to form a living box of lucifer matches ? Do you 
want a complete manufacture of infernal machines ? But I 
must conclude, as I really think that much hath been said. 
In all human probability this letter may be the last that I 
shall publish. It is now more than fifteen years since I 
published the first upon the subject. I then declared, on 
the Word of God, which never yet failed me, that the Poor 
Law Amendment Act was intended to extirpate the pauper 
poor of England, and would eventually produce a revolution. 
Prom this assurance I have never deviated. Many minor 
circumstances may combine to produce it : this is the cause, 
for God himself hath declared it. S. R. 

Though the general phraseology of this letter bears some 
indication of those circumstances under which it was pro- 
duced — though it could not be quoted as an example of 
continuous, well sustained, and strikingly developed argu- 



238 ATJTOBIOGKAPHY. AND 

merit — it may with confidence be appealed to in evidence of 
unimpaired clearness of mental vision, even in the extremity 
of nature's weakness. The author's meaning is evident, 
though not conveyed with perfect coherency; and it has 
touches of characteristic force obvious to any one conver- 
sant with his style of writing. 

It will be returning five days from the date of this letter 
to revert to Sunday, the 10th of July, on which day he 
listened as usual to a sermon in the evening ; the one read 
to him in regular course being the seventeenth in the first 
volume of Cooper s Sermons, from Matthew, chap. v. verse 6 : 
" Blessed are they that do hunger and thirst after righteous- 
ness, for they shall be filled.'" 

A few pages at the end of the sermon having been omitted 
unknown to him, it is believed that the three last of the part 
which was read to him were as follows : 

" They shall be filled" Let us see what this promise 
means. 

It means, in the first place, that they shall hare the 
things which they long for. They shall not run in vain. 
They shall win the prize for which they are striving. Do 
they now hunger and thirst after righteousness? They 
shall obtain righteousness. Do they now prefer heaven to 
earth, and choose God before the world? They shall not 
lose by their preference, nor repent of their choice. They 
shall live in heaven, and serve God, and see his face for 
ever. Do they now "count all things but loss, that they 
may be found in Christ?-" They shall be found in Him. 
Washed in his blood from every stain, they shall stand 
"faultless before the presence of his glow with exceeding 
joy." Do they now, above all things, long for holiness P 



SELECT REMAINS OE SAMUEL ROBERTS. 239 

Is it their earnest desire to be holy as God is holy ? to be 
" perfect «ven as their Father which is in heaven is per- 
fect?" This desire also shall be gratified. At death they 
shall have done with sin for ever. The flesh shall no longer 
lust against the spirit. They shall be sanctified wholly : 
and seeing Christ in glory, "as He is they shall be like 
him." 

But the promise in the text has a still further meaning. 
It means that those who hunger and thirst after righteous- 
ness, not only shall have the things which they long for, 
but shall also be perfectly satisfied with them. They shall 
come up to, and even go far beyond their largest wishes. 
" They shall be filled." They shall find the joys of heaven 
to be full and satisfying. They have chosen God for their 
portion, and they shall find Him to be their exceeding great 
reward. They shall then feel that perfect holiness is per- 
fect happiness. When they " awake up after God's likeness, 
they shall be satisfied with it." " They shall hunger no 
more, neither thirst any more, neither shall the sun light on 
them, nor any heat : for the Lamb, which is in the midst 
of the throne, shall feed them : and shall lead them unto 
living fountains of waters : and God shall wipe away all 
tears from their eyes." 

"What glorious truths are these ! How justly may it be 
said of the persons in the text, that they are blessed ! May 
all of you, who hunger and thirst after righteousness, make 
that use of these glorious truths which you ought to make 
of them ! May they comfort and encourage you under 
present troubles, and stir you up to a patient continuance in 
well-doing ! It is true, that you now labour and strive, 
but " your labour shall not be in vain in the Lord !" " You 



2-10 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND 

now sow in (cars/' "but you shall reap in joy." You now 
"hunger and thirst/' but hereafter you "shall fce filled.' 1 

You may be tempted to think that your trials are hard. 
You may be tempted to fear that you shall fail at last. 
You may be tempted to keep back something which God 
and your conscience bid you to give up. Yield not to 
these temptations. " Be faithful unto death, and you shall 
receive a crown of lie." Go on in the narrow way of faith 
and holiness. Turn not to the right hand nor to the left. 
This narrow way will surely lead to heaven ; and heaven 
will as surely make amends for all that you have lost, or 
suffered on the road. "Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, 
neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which 
God hath prepared for them that love him." Set these 
things before you. See them now by faith. Soon you 
shall enter into the full possession and enjoyment of them." 

After hearing this discourse he lay on the sofa twenty 
minutes or half an hour, with something of a hectic flush 
on his cheek," his lips at times seeming just to move, but in 
perfect silence ; till at last he called round liim those mem- 
bers of his family who were present, and expressed the joy 
which he had been experiencing in communion with his 
Heavenly rather, — with the feeling that "the world and all 
its cares had passed away." 

He had one more ride after this down his favourite 
valley ere he lay down on his bed to quit it no more in life : 
he passed one more Sabbath on earth, on which the next day 
was his last. On that last day there is reason to think 
that his last senium was present to his thoughts. Also 
even on that .last day in the intervals of severe suffering, 
from his own nearest interests, or those of his family, his 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 241 

nriud still expanded to those of the world at large, into 
which, almost as long as he was its tenant, he had entered 
with so intense an interest. " Wonderful events," he said, 
" were coming on the earth." 

About ten o' clock, or half-past, on the evening of Mon- 
day, July 24, after an hour or two of patient speechless 
suffering, his spirit departed. 

Among the papers which he left was the following : — 

Park Grange, April 18th, 1848. 
Being the eighty-fifth birthday of the writer ; who states 
with unbounded gratitude that he considers the last ten 
years to have been the happiest of any other ten, coming 
together, of an unusually happy life. 

The just man's path is a glorious ray 
Which shineth more and more unto the perfect day, 
He sinking to the grave — devoid of fear, 
Finds Faith and Love unite his way to cheer, 
While all his prospects bright'ning to the last, 
He seems to find a heaven before the world be past. 
Then, let no human voice, though that of love, 
Disturb his sweet communing with above. 

It is an interesting circumstance, not to be omitted here, 
that, on the afternoon of that day whereon the earthly 
tabernacle of the departed philanthropist was deposited in 
the spot where it now awaits, as is humbly trusted, the 
resurrection of the just, five poor children, from the Boys' 
Charity School of Sheffield, availed themselves of their half- 
holiday to pace, dinnerless, to and from the village of 
Anston, at a distance of twelve miles, in the unavailing 



.' I 2 \i COBIOGB WHY AND 

attempl to be presenl a1 the funeral of their departed 
firiend. They were, of course, .some hours too late. 

Now thai thai frail tabernacle is put thus oil' for a season, a 
doubt may ah i hi- i be suggested whether, among the breathing 
occupants of this stirring scene of mundane vicissitudes, 
there exists one spectator, apart from all personal considera- 
tions, so keenly interested in its changes and alternations as 
erewhile existed in the person of him whose spirit so lately 
animated it — his interest being that of a naturally imagina- 
tive and inquiring mind, as well as that of a philanthropist 
and a Christian. The question has been suggested here by 
the comparison of the complaint of the enthusiastic boy 
whose eyes had scarcely opened on the scene, "Nothing 
wonderful happens in these days," alluded to at the 
commencement of this volume, with the almost latest accents 
of the departing saint, whose sands were at their lowest ebb, 
" Wonderful events are coining on the earth," given in 
these concluding pages, while those that intervene are occu- 
pied by a part of that evidence to the same effect which the 
pages of his life supply. 

They who (taking occasion from those central affections 
which assuredly bound him by a special tie to his home, his 
birth-place, and his country, and, disregarding the wide cir- 
cumference of expansive feeling which, as assuredly, had no 
limit within those of his mental capacities) have accused 
him of narrowness of mind, have supplied a text which it 
is no exaggeration to say might be dilated on through a 
volume. If ever there was a citizen of the world, he was 
one. Lei the evidence of the fad comprised in the compass 
of this work be appealed to. Was il narrowness of mind 
which led him to overcome constitutional timidity, ami 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 243 

stand by the scorned, the lacerated, and ulcerated climbing- 
boy, as his unflinching advocate before his partial judge ? 
—to appeal to the senate on behalf of the tens of thousands 
of infant sufferers immured in suffocating manufactories ? — 
to resist, and finally overcome (for surely this was pre- 
eminently, if not exclusively, his work) the legislative 
iniquity which sanctioned the state lottery ? — led his falter- 
ing steps to the narrow cell, where the infringer of his 
country's laws awaited in awful expectation the execution 
of the sentence, by which, ere long, he must stand for 
judgment before the tribunal of the Judge of quick and 
dead ? — conducted his willing feet down the green lane to 
the simple tent of the wandering gypsy ? — carried him, on 
the field of speculation, down the course of time, and round 
the surface of the globe, while he explored their origin and 
destinies in conjunction with those of the scattered and 
outcast race of Israel ? He, whose heart was open to every 
child of affliction, his arm extended to the aid of every 
victim of oppression, was he narrow minded ? No pageantry 
of wealth or power dazzled his eyes, stopped his ears, or 
averted his steps, when the voice of his brother cried for 
aid, let it be across the wide Atlantic, from the shores of 
Africa, or from the farthest cell of the obscure asylum that 
echoed the wailings of the pauper lunatic ; the meanest 
underling in the poorest workhouse, "dressed in a little 
brief authority," the mightiest monarch on the loftiest 
throne, being alike sure to hear, if they would listen, so far 
as he was in possession of it, truth from his lips. Was 
it narrowness of mind which called him up before the 
tribunal of public opinion, as the advocate of the despised, 
oppres sed, and degraded children of Ham, prompting him 



241 a no hi in. i:\riiY and 

to confront the proud American, the sullen Creole, the 
British planter? animating him (as Jacob stood before 
Pharaoh), to appear for the first time in person before 
members of the legislature in their legislative capacity, on 
the day whereon he completed his threescore years and 
ten, in the fore front of those who had there assembled to 
strain every nerve to deal the death-blow of British slavery. 
Had this little work been expanded to regular biography, 
then would it have been seen how he appealed to public 
indignation on behalf of the plundered and oppressed inhabi- 
tants of China — how lie came forward on behalf of the 
Aborigines of our colonies all over the world. The 
wanderers of the American desert, the hunted Bushman, the 
houseless CafTer, were embraced in the wide-spread arms of 
his benevolence. Was it narrowness of mind which made 
him the friend of Chalmers, and Wiiber force, and Clark- 
son, procuring for him from the dying breath of the last- 
named dauntless champion of the rights of universal 
humanity, his clear farewell, as the man in almost every 
way of his own heart ? He who was wont to draw 
from the native stores of his own original yet uneducated 
mind for the service of varied science — who at once imbibed 



(" It might not be, but in the still small voice 
That met my ear, methought I could discern 
One rapturous song of gratitude and praise,") 

and drank in the hallelujahs wherewith " the heavens are 
telling the glory of God and the firmament showeth his 
handy work," was he narrow-minded? Was it narrow 



SELECT REMAINS OF SAMUEL ROBERTS. 245 



ness of mind which,, while he was himself peculiarly opj 
to the magnificent ceremonials of Soman Catholic worship, 
and also to their creed, found him ever ready to bear the 
brunt of whatever odium might attach to their public 
defender on the numerous occasions on which he thought 
they were unfairly dealt with? It was not narrowness of 
mind which forbade him to require any man to say Sibboleth 
with him, to impose any temple but that of the heart, any 
worship but that of God in Christ Jesus in spirit and in truth ; , 
animating him in prophetic vision, brightening to the last 
(privileged, like Moses, from an elevation above the multi- 
tude, to survey that scene of earthly promise which he was 
not with them to enter into), with the contemplation of a 
nearly approaching period, when men shall no more say I 
am of Paul, and I of Apollas, and I of Cephas : for there 
shall be one universal church, wherein man shall be abased, 
and the Lord alone shall be exalted in that day. Thus 
much will suffice to show, that if he whose character these 
pages faintly delineate is to be depreciated, it must be on 
other grounds, inasmuch as, whatever he was not, he was 
the enlarged, the comprehensive, the clear-sighted Christian 

PHILANTHROPIST. 



Wilson andOgilvy, 57, Skinner Street, Snowhill, London. 



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